


the word of dragons

by daestruct



Category: EXO (Band), Korean Actor RPF
Genre: Baekhyun's Mouth, Dragons, Elements of High Fantasy, F/M, Feudal System, Guillotine, Magic, Magic-Users, Sexual Themes, depictions of torture, explicit content, extreme language, slight age gap, the warnings make it sound so much more intense than it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 18:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 100,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12612700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daestruct/pseuds/daestruct
Summary: "The king is seeking the one artifact that living eyes have never seen." Minseok's gaze feels like it's piercing through Baekhyun's skull. "He's offering his daughter's hand in marriage and the title of future king consort for it.""What is he looking for?" Baekhyun asks, heart pounding. The princess is to bewed, and fate seems to have taken hold, everything falling into place.Minseok's answering grin is slow and wicked. "The Word of Dragons."





	1. a breath of magic

**Author's Note:**

> I dedicate this fic to the small team of baekhera shippers in my life - Aeryn, Ali, Bianca, Bunny, Luna, and Riha (even if she denies). I hope to meet some more of y’all through this. Please don’t leave me high and dry on this boat.
> 
> A special thank you to Bianca who I strong-armed into betaing this. She’s the best test-reader I could ask for. I don’t know what I did to deserve her, but bless Bianca. (But also fuck you and no thank you to Bianca for this being as long as it is.)
> 
> This is the lightest thing I’ve written in a while, so sue me for all the cliches in this. I couldn’t help myself.

**

The castle walls are meant to be intimidating. They’re a warning and a danger. Hidden in the battlements, archers and war mages lay waiting for some fool to attack the walls, for someone to try to get in and cause harm to the nobility living inside.

Maybe Baekhyun is a fool, but to him, those walls are not intimidating. They don’t inspire fear.

To Baekhyun, they look like a challenge, and Baekhyun could never resist a challenge. He’s determined to climb those walls and see what secrets the king hides within them, see exactly how best he can exact revenge on the man who drove his family into what they are now.

The sounds of the slums, the clatter, the swearing, the faint whisper of a prostitute’s faked moans, welcomes Baekhyun like a warm blanket. He knows this place; he loves this place. But he doesn’t belong in this place. Baekhyun doesn’t belong anywhere near this place.

“Hey, alchemy boy,” cackles out of the shadows of the torn tapestries covering the alleyways in the slums. Old rejected stories from the palace, histories that the King no longer accepts as truths in his kingdom, are woven into them. Even with the tears through them, the dragonborn legends are clear enough. “The seven hells you doing out here?”

“Chen,” Baekhyun half-growls, tensing at the mention of his brand of magic. “You’re really gonna fuckin’ out me.”

“Hey,” Jongdae sing-songs, leaning out the torn tapestries from the dark cover of his gang’s home. His heavily accented syllables are rough around the edges of his street slang. It's nice to hear, so different from Baekhyun’s own speech. “No one’s ‘round these parts. Street’s clear. Twiddle your fingers right now and no one blinks.”

“No one except the guards at the end of the bloodydamn street corner,” Baekhyun counters. “And trust me. They’re looking.” Jongdae cackles, and the air seems to light with the bright sound of it. The guards turn, and Baekhyun’s heart sinks into his stomach. The jewel on the pommel of his sword begins to glow, and the clang of more street guards running in their direction lifts over the streets. People start yelling; there’s always yelling in the slums.

“Bloodydamn, Jongdae,” Baekhyun hollers, grabbing his friend’s wrist and yanking him out of the torn tapestries. “Run!” They sprint, Jongdae still laughing, down the street. The bracelets around Jongdae’s wrist and the rings on his fingers flash, sparks flying between them. It singes Baekhyun skin for only a moment. _”Shit,_ ” Baekhyun hisses. The skin heals over the slight marks, and Jongdae is still laughing as they turn a corner.

The yelling and bartering, the smells of freshly baked goods and the stench of unwashed people and dog shit, this is the part of the slums that makes Baekhyun glad he doesn’t really belong here. 

“You could, like, stop and fight them,” Jongdae yells at him, darting between two vendors. Baekhyun leaps over a crate of apples.

“Maybe I’m trying to not show out as my father’s son!” Baekhyun hisses back at him. Jongdae throws his hands behind him, and the wind warps, knocking over the crate of apples and a cabbage vendor’s cart too.

“Go around yelling that a little louder,” Jongdae retorts, “and it won’t fucking matter!” He cackles, magic energy zipping between his fingers. Baekhyun mutters a curse and a charm all in one, and the rings and bracelets on Jongdae’s hands twist and melt, reforming into knives, one side smooth and the other jagged.

Jongdae tosses him a smirk. “Thanks, exile.”

“It’s Chen!” One of the guards yells. His scabbard glows, red lightning, a weak imitation of the real thing. The other guards with him all draw their swords, and they all glow, the colors varying.

Jongdae sneers. “I love that name,” he laughs. His own lightning, bright, pale silver, not the pale blue of real lightning, but a far more believable version than the guards’ magic, bursts into the air.

“On your guard, men!” The guard at the head of crew following them orders, and Jongdae’s smirk stretches into a wicked grin. Baekhyun rolls his eyes and steps behind him, pulling his hood low over his eyes.

“Pussycat,” Jongdae snarls at him. “You planning to cower behind me?”

“Hey, Chen Chen,” Baekhyun retorts. “We both know I can't do magic.” He says it loud enough for the guards to hear. He needs them to hear. Baekhyun definitely does not need to be caught doing magic out here in the slums, doesn’t need the guards to recognize his magic and learn his face.

“Dragon tongue,” Jongdae snorts quietly for only Baekhyun’s ears. He shrugs his shoulders back. “Back me if I need it.” He raises his hands, and a web of crackling silver lightning spreads from his hands, sparking sharper off the metal blades in his hands.

“I already helped you out,” Baekhyun reminds him. Jongdae brandishes the knives in his hands in response.

“You’re an angel, sweetheart,” Jongdae sneers. The guards all run up to face him.

“Chen,” one of the guards announces. “You’re under arrest for high treason against the King.”

“It’s _Lord_ Chen,” Jongdae tells him, the lightning spreading from his hands to dance up his arms too, spreading out behind him like wings. The vendors and citizens of the slums in the area scream and run. Some of them have their wrists decorated with the same bracelets that Jongdae wears in bulk, showing off their status as part of his gang. Baekhyun keeps his eyes carefully set on the magic the guards wield, watching for any of it to escape their control. He can easily reach out with his own magic and contain the haywire war magic of the guards, making it look like it had been Jongdae’s doing. After all, Baekhyun’s presence is half the reason Jongdae is so well known as a dangerous street lord called Chen.

Chen, the original bringer of magic, a dragonborn from years past who created original magic, alchemical magic, the magic that Baekhyun wields: that’s who Jongdae takes his title from. 

It’s effective, garnering fear and respect for him from all of those in the area. Many of the those who live in the slums, magical affinity or no, go to him for protection.

Still, for all his posturing, all his acting like he is the one who uses original magic, Jongdae is nothing but a war magic user. It’s Baekhyun, standing behind him and hiding his face, who is the real source of original magic.

“For crimes of theft and murder of the King’s guardsmen,” the guard presses on, ignoring Jongdae’s proclamation of his self-given street title, “And for the use of magic proclaimed illegal by our great King, you are sentenced to death. Your execution will be imminent upon arrival at the palace.”

Jongdae snorts, and his magic flashes a little brighter, outshining the war magic of the guards. Some of them flinch, and a few swallow. Baekhyun keeps his grin hidden in the shadow of the hood of his cloak.

“Sure,” Jongdae agrees. “I accept the sentence.” He winks. “If you fuckers can catch me.” He cackles then and stomps his foot. Thunder seems to crash around them, the lightning in Jongdae’s hands surging forward to pierce through the guards. They topple and scream, and Jongdae just laughs louder, his magic spinning around him. The few guards who stand still, their own magic expanded like shields from the pommels of their swords, run forward.

“For the King!” one of them proclaims, sword drawn back as he runs as Jongdae.

“Baekhyun!” Jongdae hisses, tossing his knives into the air. Baekhyun breathes, flicking his fingers subtly by his side. The knives glint and mold together, a newly formed short sword falling back in Jongdae’s hand. He runs at the guard, snatching the sword out of thin air, and meets him, parrying with his wicked grin still on his face.

“The King won’t mind if I bring you to him already missing your head,” the guard sneers. Baekhyun closes his eyes for a moment. These idiots never do learn to not provoke his friend.

“I’ll humour you a moment,” Jongdae says with a sigh. He relaxes his grip on the sword, stepping back with his arms resting at his sides. “Take your best swing, palace mouse.” The guard shouts and draws his sword back again. His armor clangs with his deep breath in preparation of swinging his sword hard towards Jongdae’s neck.

“Rat shit,” Baekhyun curses in a whisper to himself. “Fuck you, Jongdae.” The guard swings, and Baekhyun darts forward. He throws his magic towards the ground at Jongdae’s feet, propelling his friend up into the air over the guard’s swing. He crashes into the guard instead, knocking him flat and twisting his sword from his grip.

“Sorcerer's son,” the guard under Baekhyun breathes, and Baekhyun smashes his hand, fortified by contained magical power, through the guard’s mask and into his face. His skull caves, and Baekhyun sneers at him.

“You knew too much,” he says to the guard’s corpse like it's some sort of apology.

Jongdae hits the ground hard, rolling with his momentum. He comes up already swinging his short sword at another guard, sliding the weapon under the guard’s armor and into his stomach. He releases a bolt of lightning into the guard’s skin, and the man all but explodes inside his armor. 

“Look who decided to show out,” Jongdae laughs, darting in to engage the next guard. He forces the man back, tripping him over the fallen body of one of his comrades. 

“Whose bloodydamn fault is that exactly?” Baekhyun snarls, ducking under another guards magical attack. He slams his hand into the guard’s chest, and his armor curls and burns to ash under his touch. He throws his cloak back over his shoulders and snags the knife strapped to his thigh, sliding it only too easily between the guards ribs before the man can get away. “No hard feelings,” he tells the guard before he releases his own power into the man’s body. He spins to meet another one, shoving him back with a burst of energy, propelling the man backward onto Jongdae’s sword and waiting burst of power.

“You really are too savage,” Jongdae snorts, letting the last guard’s corpse drop to the ground.

“You’re a real asshole,” Baekhyun retorts. He wipes the blood from his knife with a flick of his fingers and slides the weapon back into its sheath. Jongdae just shrugs.

“I just like seeing it,” he says.

“I’m supposed to be fuckin’ hiding it,” Baekhyun says, letting his cloak fall back around his shoulders. He tugs his hood up over his head. “And Street Lord Chen isn’t supposed to be hiding an alchemical magic user.”

“Well, technically,” Jongdae drawls, walking up to Baekhyun. “Street Lord Chen is supposed to be an original magic user himself, but we all know I’m just real good with war magic.” He throws an arm over Baekhyun’s shoulder. “I keep you around to solidify the lie.”

“I didn’t mean to be part of your little act,” Baekhyun whines, but he leans against Jongdae anyway. The familiar crackle of his friend’s war magic is a comfort no matter how dangerous it is.

“You came here looking for me, exile,” Jongdae reminds him, jostling Baekhyun’s shoulder. He holds out his sword reformed from his usual rings and bracelets and quirks an eyebrow at Baekhyun. Baekhyun sighs.

“I regret the day I brought you upon myself,” Baekhyun says somberly. He flicks his fingers, and Jongdae’s sword breaks apart, the metal bending and twisting until it lies in bands around Jongdae’s wrists and fingers. Jongdae laughs his gratitude, punching Baekhyun’s side with his ringed hand. Baekhyun steps on his foot. Jongdae’s answering screech disappears behind torn tapestries, the two of them diving into Jongdae’s maze of alleys and hidden corners. 

There’s a general murmur in the alleys, Jongdae’s presence lifting the spirits of all of those who wear his bracelets.

“Lord Chen,” many of them murmur, bowing to him. Most of them burst into giggles after Jongdae flashes them a grin and lets his magic sparkle across his knuckles, their general ages ranging from four years of age to twenty. It’s not until they reach the inner sanction of the old jail house that the two of them hear anything other than praises for Lord Chen and polite, slightly awed greetings for Baekhyun. He’s only known around the slums as a companion and friend to Lord Chen. Many assume him to be a non-magic user or a war magic user, and Baekhyun hasn't given them any reason to believe otherwise.

None of them know who Baekhyun really is, and that’s exactly how it’s going to stay.

“You bloodydamn idiots!” screeches a voice Baekhyun has known for just as long as he’s been familiar with Jongdae’s cackle. He snorts openly as Jongdae’s smile falters, his shoulders just barely flinching.

“My beloved Sunyoung,” he begins, reaching out towards the tiny woman. She draws a hand back, and Jongdae closes his eyes and doesn’t move as she unleashes a fist into his chest. No magic sparkles around her with the hit. 

“Jongdae!” she snarls, hitting him again. Jongdae stumbles back a step. Baekhyun lifts a hand over his mouth to hide his giggles. “You. Are. A bloodydamn. Moron. What did I tell you about the guards?”

“Hey, it’s fine,” Jongdae tries, taking Sunyoung by the shoulders. “I’m fine. Exile’s fine. The metal men don’t know where we went.”

“Yeah, because you killed them all!” Sunyoung shouts, bangles jangling on her wrists with her gestures. The silver of Lord Chen shines no brighter than the Lady Luna’s white gold. If Baekhyun is Lord Chen’s best kept secret, then his right hand woman and lover is his worst. The guards still dare to attack Jongdae when they catch him out and about; no one approaches Sunyoung if they recognize her. 

No one except Jongdae. But Jongdae is convinced his handsome face will protect him from Lady Luna’s wrath. Idiot.

Jongdae shrugs, pulling Sunyoung in against him and petting the back of her head. “Shh,” he soothes. “You know I would never put any of you in danger, yeah?” Sunyoung grumbles into Jongdae’s chest, punching his shoulder again. “Besides, I had Baekhyun to back me up.”

“Baekhyun isn’t supposed to be here,” Sunyoung mutters, looking up at Jongdae. Jongdae’s not tall by any means, but Sunyoung is absolutely tiny. Baekhyun has never met the queen of this kingdom, has never seen her, but he imagines her to be quite like Sunyoung, unofficial queen of the slums: tiny and beautiful with an air of elegance.

Sunyoung’s spark of anger and fire magic, however, is all her. No queen sitting beside this kingdom’s king would be much but a controlled puppet. 

“It’s boring outside of the kingdom,” Baekhyun says, scratching at his cheek. “Papa is kind of…” He shrugs. “Exile is not good for him.”

Jongdae leans back from Sunyoung, looking over his shoulder at Baekhyun. “If the rumors hold water, your father was never really sane to begin with.” 

“Jongdae,” Sunyoung hisses, smacking Jongdae upside the head. Her elemental magic sparks on her fingers, and Baekhyun winces in sympathy for his friend.

“What?” Jongdae whines, rubbing at the spot.

“It’s fine, m’Lady,” Baekhyun says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Jongdae’s not wrong.”

“See?” Jongdae slides his hands along Sunyoung’s arms to her hands, linking their fingers. “Exile’s not offended. No need to be mad at me, hm?” Sunyoung frowns, and Baekhyun sees her magic flash in her eyes a split second before Jongdae is releasing her hands and jerking back. The skin on his hands is pink with minor burns, and he looks between the burns and Sunyoung as she saunters away.

“Fine woman you got there,” Baekhyun laughs, clasping Jongdae’s shoulder. Jongdae offers him a lopsided grin.

“I know, right?”

Baekhyun sighs. “You’re a fuckin’ glutton for punishment is what you are.” Jongdae pouts at him, holding up his injured hands. Baekhyun can’t help sighing again. “C’mere.” His magic, original magic, glows underneath his skin as he runs his fingertips over the burns on Jongdae’s hands, whispering in a subpar human version of the great song of dragons. The human voice cannot imitate every sound the dragon language contains, but he does his best to encourage healing in the skin of Jongdae’s hands.

“You’re such an asset to my underground debauchery,” Jongdae says when Baekhyun has finished. “Thanks.” He heads off in the direction that Sunyoung went then, and Baekhyun shakes his head. Jongdae is a powerful magic user, yes, but he’s an impressive idiot as well.

“Glutton for punishment,” Baekhyun repeats. He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. The streets will be wild for a bit as vendors work to get their stalls and wares set up again and city officials come to clean up the bodies of the guards and interrogate those who are caught on the scene. Another grand disturbance after the one Baekhyun and Jongdae caused is the perfect time to escape the slums and head towards the inner city.

The palace walls really do look like such a fun challenge.

*

Baekhyun keeps his hood pulled low over his eyes, obscuring his face and most of his vision. His senses are on high alert for any source of magic. It doesn’t matter how long it takes him to get to the castle walls. He can’t start trying to find a way in until after dark, and it’d be better to avoid another run-in with the guards today. If not for Jongdae, he wouldn’t have had a run-in in the first place. Baekhyun kicks at a loose stone in the street. If only he could warp the light around him to make himself appear like an old beggar, the curious glances thrown his way turned to eyes hidden in fear that he might ask for money. But using his magic is like a signal fire, calling the guards to his location.

He winds through the slums to the bridge that crosses from this area of the slums to the inner city. The guards standing there don’t stop him from entering; there aren’t any rules against the slum rats entering the inner city. Entering the palace walls, however, is another story. The tap of Baekhyun’s boots on the cobblestones echoes the thrum of magic in his veins, and he breathes carefully so that his power won’t escape. 

There will be another hour or so before the sun sets, Baekhyun thinks, scanning the sky. The buildings in the inner city are taller, and no sunlight slips through the thatched roofs and through the cracks in the walls. The taverns are bustling this time of day, and Baekhyun’s stomach grumbles at the thought. 

He looks up at the battlements at the top of the palace walls again and decides if he’s planning to get inside them somehow, sustenance is definitely needed. Baekhyun turns down the next street, heading towards a familiar smell.

“Open tables!” is called down the street, the barmaid’s pretty face familiar and welcoming when she turns to see Baekhyun headed her way. “Well, well, ain’t seen your face in awhile.” She ducks, pretending to peer under Baekhyun’s hood. “And I still ain’t seen it. Come in. I’ll getcha sumpthin’.” 

“Thanks, Hani,” Baekhyun says, following the woman inside. Her dress is pulled tight, a ribbon tied around her tiny waist. Baekhyun almost envies the man who first gained him entry to the kingdom. “Minseok here?”

“ _Xiumin_ is in the back,” Hani corrects. “I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

Baekhyun laughs. He’s the reason Minseok had to drop his given name for an pseudonym in the first place. “Yeah, I doubt the fuck outta that. But I’d like to see him anyway.” Hani just shrugs, snagging a pitcher of grog from the bar and plopping it down at one of the small tables in the back.

“Sit ‘ere,” she orders. “Enjoy that while I go fetch ‘em.”

“You know I don’t drink that stuff,” Baekhyun sighs, settling onto one of the small stools at the table. Hani leans in close to him, and Baekhyun keeps his eyes purposely focused on the foam sliding down the side of the pitcher of grog instead of the perfect view down Hani’s dress. Minseok is a lucky man.

“And you know my name isn’t really Hani,” she whispers. She winks. “Keepin’ up appearances, exile.” She straightens then and pours some of the grog into a mug for Baekhyun. “I’ll bring ‘em over ‘ere,” Hani calls as she walks off, her skirts swishing around her ankles. “Bring you some food too.” Baekhyun watches her go, watches her grin at the inner city dwellers that whistle at her, some even daring to reach out and touch her waist, her ass. Baekhyun snorts and shakes his head, hiding his smirk against the rim of his mug.

If any of them take a step too far, Minseok will appear to break fingers and wrists. Baekhyun’s seen it happen before, and he’s seen Hani press Minseok into his room in the back of the tavern afterwards, her hands already scrabbling at his clothes. Minseok may be a lucky man, but Hani, too, is a lucky woman.

“Your eyes look a little glassy there, boy,” Minseok’s voice breaks through Baekhyun’s thoughts. “Careful with those. Your thoughts.” He sits down across from Baekhyun, grabbing the pitcher and filling his own mug with grog. Minseok taps his temple. “It might not be powerful like your magic, but it has it’s uses.”

“One of your boys taught you that?” Baekhyun asks. Minseok offers a small smile.

“Han,” he answers. He waves his hand over Baekhyun’s mug, and the contents freeze. “Junmyeon.”

“Clever,” Baekhyun says, tapping a fingernail against the ice. “A mind reader and a water magic user in one. How much trouble are you trying to cause?”

“Enough,” Minseok answers. “Minseok was nothing but a regular at Madame Le’s brothel. Kicked out for being in cahoots with the notorious sorcerer's son.” He raises his mug and tips it in Baekhyun’s direction. Baekhyun flinches. Who he is carries more weight than his name. “He would have been exiled if he hadn’t poisoned himself and his two lovers at the brothel.”

“He loved them all too much to leave them behind,” Baekhyun adds. “It’s real fuckin’ sweet, honestly.”

Minseok hums in agreement, taking another swig of grog. “It makes sense that the sorcerer’s son would know a thing or two about poisons.” Baekhyun flicks his fingers over the grog in his cup, and the ice reverts to liquid, sloshing over onto his wrist as he lifts it to clank against Minseok’s.

“The sorcerer’s son happened to know a woman who knows a lot about poisons,” Baekhyun corrects. “A great assassin for the royal family. Mysteriously disappeared from the castle.” He rolls his eyes and jerks his thumb in Hani’s direction. “And now she stays with you, wasting her talents and playing barmaid.”

“If she were staying with Minseok,” Minseok returns, “her talents would be wasted. But he’s dead.”

“Of course,” Baekhyun relents. “And Xiumin? He’s not wasting her talents?”

“Yes,” Minseok agrees. “I know exactly when her talents and connections are necessary. Han and Junmyeon too.”

“You keep your boys still?”

Minseok shows Baekhyun the slowest smirk. “No point in wasting good sex,” he says. He raises an eyebrow. “And besides, two people recorded to be dead make for amazing spies. Madame Le has no reason to not take in Lu and Suho. They do look remarkably like Han and Junmyeon.” He grins, and Baekhyun rolls his eyes.

“You’re of deplorable character, Xiumin,” he tells Minseok. 

“Indeed,” Minseok agrees. “And since you were wondering, all of that - my brothel boys and my barmaid - does mean I do know the best way into the castle from here.” He shrugs. “If you’re interested.” There’s a reason Baekhyun has never liked Han: his ability to slip into the minds of others. Now that he’s taught Minseok, Baekhyun’s thoughts will never be safe on this side of the inner city again. He puts his walls up, concentrating the energy around himself so that magic cannot penetrate through to his thoughts. Minseok frowns. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he says. He tosses back the last of his mug and goes to fill it again. “I already know your plans for the night.”

“Doesn’t mean I want you traipsin’ around my mind as you fuckin’ please,” Baekhyun counters. Minseok shrugs again.

“Do you want to get into the castle or not?” he asks. Baekhyun bites his lip.

”I’m hungry,” he answers. Minseok raises his hand in response, waving two fingers at one of the barmaids. She dips her head in his direction and scurries towards the kitchen immediately. She comes out with two platters of pheasant and Hani trailing behind her.

“Here you are,” the girl says, setting the platters down. “Anythin’ else for you sirs?”

“No, Susu,” Minseok says, waving her away. “Thank you.” The girl, Susu, pauses, looking down at Baekhyun with a curiosity laced with interest. Baekhyun winks at her but shows no other interest in interacting with the girl. His focus is on Minseok.

“Susu,” Minseok states. “I’m not paying you to stand here.” The girl jolts from watching Baekhyun, trying to gain his favor, and curtsies and spins back out onto the floor to flirt, flashing her cleavage at tavern-goers.

“She’s popular,” Hani murmurs. She puts a hand on Minseok’s shoulder and leans over to pat his thigh. “Make room for me?” Obediently, Minseok scoots his stool back and spreads his legs. Hani sits on his thigh, leaning against him. 

“Not as popular as you,” Minseok argues. His arm slides around Hani’s waist. “But our favorite little exile here wants to know how to get into the castle. Surely you can tell him?” He holds out a hand on the table, leveling his gaze at Baekhyun, waiting. His patience burns through Baekhyun, holding him wary and still.

“Take his hand, exile,” Hani murmurs, her own stretching out to hover over Minseok’s. Minseok turns his hand palm up.

“I promise not to pry,” Minseok says. “Come on. I’m only the guide.” Baekhyun glances between Minseok and Hani, and for a moment, he can see the humble trader with a penchant for visiting Madame Le’s brothel and the woman he fell in love with: the notorious sister of the king’s assassin. 

Slowly, carefully, Baekhyun lowers his guard and reaches out to take Minseok’s hand. “Okay,” he says as their thumbs cross. “I’m trusting you.” Minseok nods once, and then his grip tightens. Baekhyun gasps, feeling Minseok’s power crash into his mind, opening an exchange of information between them. Nothing flows through the breach, and Baekhyun tries his best to keep his breathing steady, to not let his own power flare up and push Minseok out. It would be so easy to do; Minseok is new to this. Baekhyun was raised in it.

Minseok turns their hands over, and Baekhyun grits his teeth, taking the submissive side of the exchange. He watches Hani’s eyes flit between the two of them, and then she lowers her hand to cover Minseok’s. White light bursts at the edges of Baekhyun’s vision, colored only by the vague shadows of memory.

“Close your eyes,” Hani murmurs, her own closed. Baekhyun lets his eyes slip closed, and the brightness clears, becoming memories of the palace. The details of the palace walls, the cracks and the rot, are all clear. So this, Baekhyun realizes, is the route the assassin Heeyeon used to take to enter and exit the palace.

So this, he commits to memory, is the way in which he will enter too.

The images become dark, and the magic fades. Baekhyun opens his eyes at the same moment that Hani draws her hand away. He feels Minseok’s mind sitting at the forefront of his own, testing for any weakness, tickling at the thoughts and memories of long ago, and Baekhyun frowns. He twist their hands back the other way, changing the flow of information between them, forcing Minseok to submit to his own power.

“Careful, Xiumin,” Baekhyun warns, his voice low. “Wouldn’t want you to get into sumpthin’ you shouldn’t.” He laughs then. “After all, our friendship is the greatest fuckin’ farce.” He lifts his grog to his lips, still laughing, and pretends to take a drink. Minseok releases Baekhyun’s hand, and the connection snaps. Baekhyun throws his wards back into place.

“Thank you, Hani,” he says to the barmaid. “Feel free to join me tonight if you wish to enter the palace again. I’ve always wanted to sleep in the king’s bed with a beautiful woman.” Hani laughs, stroking Minseok’s cheek to calm him from growling at Baekhyun’s threat of taking his woman.

“Exile…” Minseok starts, eyebrows drawn down.

“Oh, hush,” Hani chides, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “He’s tryin’ to aggravate you. Don’t allow ‘em.” She hops up off Minseok’s lap. “Eat that,” she directs, pointing at the pheasant and then at Baekhyun. Her gaze strays to the front of the tavern where the faintest remains of sunlight turn the sky orange. “It will be dark soon.” She takes Minseok’s hand. “Come with me, lover,” she murmurs. “Han is here. We both want to see you.”

Baekhyun doesn’t miss the way Minseok’s eyes darken, doesn’t miss the flare of his mind magic as he seeks out Han’s presence. Baekhyun tightens his control of his own magic, keeping his presence naught but a black space in the subconscious field. 

“Thirteen coppers,” Minseok says when he stands. “What you owe,” he explains to Baekhyun’s confused expression. Baekhyun frumps. 

“You’re going to make me pay?” he whines. “You invaded my mind and now you expect money?”

“I’m naught but a tavern owner,” Minseok reminds him. “I don’t have the means to provide charity to exiled alchemists.”

Baekhyun shoves a bit of pheasant in his mouth in response. “And Lord Chen says I’m the one with the fuckin’ dragon tongue.” Minseok smirks at him and turns to sweep Hani up in his arms, carrying her back towards his room to the wild ruckus of tavern-goers cheering him on. Baekhyun rolls his eyes and returns to his food. The pheasant really is delicious, but that doesn’t mean he’s actually going to pay Minseok for it. Just to spite him, when he finishes, he drops one lone copper on the table before sweeping out of the tavern, drawing his hood back over his head and his cloak around his shoulders. 

The palace awaits.

*

Following Hani’s memories is delightfully simple, and Baekhyun is immensely grateful that the woman’s talents are many but do not include magic. It makes it easier for him to follow the route she would have taken as an assassin under the king and remain undiscovered. He keeps his magic hidden and contained, his cloak hanging heavy over his shoulders. His boots slosh through the mud at the single point Hani had pointed out where the trench dug around the palace becomes shallow. 

The air here stinks of shit and death. Baekhyun wrinkles his nose but keeps trudging through the reeking sludge. He gathers his cloak up and tucks the hems into his trousers. He looks ridiculous, but he'll already have to wash the stench of dead rats and rotten food from his clothes later. He doesn't want them stained with it as well.

True to Hani’s memories, the third bar in the sewage grate is loose, and the fourth sticks a little - nothing a hard kick can’t fix. Baekhyun grimaces at having to plant his hand in the filth to give himself balance to achieve a kick from a kneeling position. The mud squelches under his hand, and Baekhyun gags, holding his breath before the pheasant can make an escape from his stomach.

Still holding his breath, Baekhyun slips under the grate and gives up on his magic ban. The smell now clinging to the skin of his hand and the thought of touching that muck again has his stomach churning. He flicks his fingers, and the mud flies from his skin. The grate clicks back into place, and Baekhyun flicks his fingers at his clothes just for good measure.

What if he meets some beautiful palace maid? He can’t be stinking of shit if he wants to woo her to sleep with him in the king’s bed. In order to do that though, Baekhyun needs to be anywhere but here. This far out in the castle’s outskirts but just barely within the walls, he probably hasn’t triggered any wards or caught any guard’s attention. Still, he turns and runs through the tunnels, trying to keep his steps as light as possible. The tap of his boots on the stone flooring could easily be dampened with a flick of his wrist, compressing the sound into unreleased energy to store for later spelling, but magic is easier to track than quiet, echoing noise.

The further into the castle Baekhyun goes, the more the walls become lined with tapestries. The stories on these vary so much from the stories sewn into the ripped tapestries in the slums, and Baekhyun wonders if the stories of his own father and his own magic are still here in the palace or if they’ve been wrecked and collected by beggars at the palace walls. He passes one tapestry that shows the patterns of unreleased war magic, and he can’t help but pause, running his fingers along the lines of it. The sharp, triangle shapes and harsh lines fit a frown on his face. 

Magic isn’t supposed to be directed only one way; the energy isn’t meant to cut off and dissipate. That’s what Baekhyun’s father taught him. Magic is eternal power that circles and circles again. If Baekhyun could, he’d set this tapestry on fire and use the ash to stain the circular pattern of original magic on the wall. The king’s fury alone at the resurgence of original magic in the palace would be utterly satisfying.

His father was banned for studying and practicing original magic, his mother and himself too. Anger boils in Baekhyun’s chest. 

He really deserve to fucking _nap_ in the king’s bed for all the shit his rules have put his family through. The king himself can lie dead beside him while he does.

The corridors widen, and the shadows stretch. Baekhyun takes to ducking into corners and holding his breath as guards in armor march past, the faintly glowing jewels in the scabbards of their swords sparking just a little brighter each time they pass Baekhyun. Baekhyun rolls his eyes. The trouble with war magic and its singular direction is that the energy never returns to the user. In a real fight, these guards and even Jongdae become too tired to continue fighting if they don’t keep a store of energy on their person at all times. Metals and precious stones - magical conduits - are such clear markers of war magic and performance magic users. With all the bracelets and rings Jongdae wears, it’s a wonder no one has called him out on Lord Chen’s original magic user act.

Baekhyun, in comparison, doesn’t wear jewelry. He doesn’t need it. 

A wayward bit of magic, a mere, barely noticeable spark, grabs Baekhyun’s attention, and he nearly trips from the shadows at the sudden show of it. The magic was so light, so barely there, a passing fire, quick like a match, but Baekhyun felt it.

That wasn’t war magic. That wasn’t performance magic or any elemental magic.

Original magic, to someone like Baekhyun, can never be mistaken for anything but what it is.

Baekhyun’s brows furrow. Original magic in the castle, let alone the kingdom? The seagulls from the cliffs take wing in Baekhyun’s stomach, sending his heart pounding. Is his father here? He licks his lips. He needs to know.

Ever so carefully, he breathe out, releasing the faintest bit of his own magic, nothing more than a blink’s span of time. There’s no response from the other original magic user, and Baekhyun curls his hands into fists, his nails digging into the skin of his palms. So this is a beginner, someone experimenting with magic for the first time. His father would have sensed Baekhyun’s angry show of magic deep in the castle’s foundation near the grates.

Baekhyun closes his eyes and searches, digging through the traces of war magic that litter the castle grounds to find the fading spark of original magic before it’s gone. The hair on the back of his neck stands on end, and he opens his eyes and stares up at the ceiling. It came from above him.

Hani’s memories spin through Baekhyun’s mind, showing him a basic map of the castle. The towers hold the chambers of the royalty and the dungeons. It must be the dungeons over him; someone detained for practicing original magic. Not that Baekhyun really has any desire to hang out with the kingdom’s criminals, but an original magic user is too intriguing to leave behind.

Original magic shouldn’t exist outside of Baekhyun’s family, but that doesn’t mean a few books haven’t been written trying to copy its methods.

With that thought, Baekhyun checks that the hall is clear before he takes off running in search of the stairs. He needs to find the servants’ stairs and stay clear of the guards and the main hallways, but that’s becoming very obviously easier said than done the longer he searches.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuckin’ castles and kings and fucking stupid royal- _shit._ ” One of the tapestries shifts, and Baekhyun ducks back behind a corner, keeping his eyes focused on the maid stepping out from the curtain with a platter of leftover food in her hands. Another serving girl follows her, an armful of finely embroidered clothes spilling out of her hands.

A slow smile crosses Baekhyun’s face. Found it. Fucking finally.

He waits another few seconds to see if any other maids are going to emerge from the hidden staircase, and when none do, he darts forward, slipping behind the fabric and nearly tripping on the first step. He sprints up them, uncaring of how much noise he makes in such a hidden place. It’s dark, lit only barely by the occasional torch. They don’t provide much heat, but the air is still and muggy. 

When a slight draft tickles Baekhyun’s fingers and cheeks, he slows, walking with careful, silent steps again, his knees aching from climbing so many stairs. The door he comes to after another twist of the staircase is sealed firmly, only a little light coming in from underneath it. The faintest trace of the original magic is here, but the warmth coming from under the door doesn’t feel like the dungeons. Of course it wouldn’t be the dungeons with two maids coming from here with food and fine clothing.

Baekhyun holds one hand still, fingers spread and ready to conduct his magic through his body. He reaches for the door handle. Locked and guarded with a thin shield. Baekhyun allows his magic to hum, touching his fingers ever so gently to the surface of the ward. The harsh lines of the flickering gold shimmer show this to be a ward against war magic, designed to keep war magic out and not tight enough to even begin to keep war magic in. He snorts.

The thin knife strapped to his thigh is thin enough to slip through the crack between the double doors, pushing the jamming mechanism back. He leans through the ward easily, murmuring quickly and twisting the middle and first finger of his free hand together to lay a layer of ward designed to keep original magic hidden against the shell of the golden ward. He braces his shoulder against the door, plants his feet, and shoves, grabbing the handle as the door flies open. The knife clatters down onto a plush rug, gold ornamentation reflected in the silver blade.

This is definitely not the dungeon. 

Baekhyun’s mouth drops open. He’s never seen such luxury before in his life. Everything in this room could pay for the contents of his house out on the cliffs three times over. The opulence almost makes him feels blinded. There’s no one inside, and Baekhyun steps in, shutting the door behind him. He twists the lock open in case he needs to escape, leaning down to pick up his knife.

A slight murmur reaches his ears, a slow voice, soothing and obviously female, reaches his ears, and Baekhyun straightens immediately, spinning to see someone emerge from a narrow hallway in the far wall from where he stands. The woman - girl, maybe. He can’t quite tell her age - has her head tilted down, satin dressing gowns flowing around her ankles. Her voice continues, reading from the tome in her hands quietly, tilting the book to see the tiny script better, and Baekhyun immediately recognizes the circular diagram drawn in faded ink on the page.

So this is the original magic user.

“Fuck,” he says before he can stop himself. The girl freezes, startled. The book falls from her hands as she jerks up to stare at him.

Baekhyun has never seen such beauty before in his life.

Her mouth opens in a scream, and Baekhyun reacts without thinking, throwing out his magic towards her, collecting the sound of her scream before it can burst into the open air. He doesn’t know what he planned to do next, but he definitely didn’t expect the girl to close her mouth, wide eyes shifting from shocked to amazed.

 _Original magic,_ her lips say even if the sound is trapped. Baekhyun can practically hear the wonder in her words anyway.

“Don’t scream,” Baekhyun pleads quietly. “I won’t- I’m not here to hurt you.”

The girl rolls her eyes. With her shoulders straight and her features forced into a semblance of calm, she looks absolutely regal. A sliver of horror wraps itself around Baekhyun’s throat. Is this…?

 _I won’t scream,_ the girl promises. Baekhyun slowly relaxes his magic, drawing the energy back to himself. _I swear it in_ my father’s name.”

He has to know. “Your father?”

The girl’s face twists into utter confusion. “The king,” she answers. “Is that not obvious?” She gestures around the lavish room. “Have you not come to steal me away? Kidnap me? Steal my virginity?” A blush colors her cheeks at the last option, and she straightens herself, flicking her hair behind her shoulder and tucking it behind her ear. She’s blushing at the mention of sex, and it’s absolutely _cute._ Baekhyun’s throat feels a bit dry. She’s so pretty.

And she’s the princess.

“You’re Princess Hyeran,” Baekhyun says. “Shit.” She flinches.

“Yes,” she says, slightly exasperated. “I won’t struggle if you plan to steal me away.” She turns to disappear back into the hall, and her voice floats back to him, just as smooth as it had been with her reading from the book. “Just let me put on a dress and collect my cloak,” she calls. “And I want to take some books too. Is that okay? You can steal me away to anywhere you wish to go, I promise.”

Baekhyun blinks. He’s missing something. “What?”

The princess leans back around the corner entrance to the hall with a simple traveling dress hanging loose and undone around her frame. She looks a bit disappointed in him, and Baekhyun hopes his own disappointment in the thick underdress she’s got on under her dress isn’t too obvious on his face. He’s a man, after all. 

“Are you here to kidnap me or not, exile?”

Baekhyun blinks. It’s not every day a beautiful woman, let alone a _princess_ , asks him to kidnap her. Baekhyun really must be in shock. “How did you know I’m exiled?”

The princess levels him with the most unimpressed glare. “You use original magic,” she says. “That magic has been exiled in the Kingdom for nearly three decades. As far as I know, only the palace and exiled sorcerer have any records on original magic.” She crosses her arms, taking one step back.

Interesting, Baekhyun thinks, how firm she sounds and tries to stand, but how easily her own trepidations slip through her body language. He’s entranced.

“Besides all that,” Hyeran continues, “it is far more interesting that you have made your way into the palace when you should not even be in the kingdom.” She rolls her eyes here. “Granted, that Lord Chen is running rampant in the slums practicing original magic and my father cannot catch him no matter how hard he tries.”

Baekhyun really couldn’t stop himself if he tried: he bursts out laughing.

Hyeran startles at the sudden noise, nearly tripping over the book still laying in a heap on the floor. 

“Quiet, you fool!” she hisses, eyes a little wide, a little frantic, as they look back and forth between the gilded door opposite the one Baekhyun entered and the secret passage behind Baekhyun’s back. “Someone may hear!”

“Fuck if they do,” Baekhyun wheezes. Hyeran flinches again. “They can’t catch Lord Chen because that fucking moron has me to back up his idiocy.” He grins. “Do you think original magic is even a _thing_ with the slum rats?” He laughs again. “No. It’s fuckin’ not, princess.”

She visibly fumbles for words, and Baekhyun almost regrets forgetting to restrain his personality. On the other hand, should he get caught, they’ll just exile him again, which, might be the cherry on top of his castle adventure. Maybe he should take the princess up on her offer to let him take her virginity…

Fuck that. He’d like to stay alive.

“Well,” she starts, looking around helplessly, “well. Who are you?” The question comes out like a demand, and Baekhyun is thrown for a loop with the switch from girl to princess. Hyeran is a bit of an enigma, a puzzle, and Baekhyun really loves to best a challenge.

“You can call me exile if you wish, princess,” he jokes. “Name’s Baekhyun. Known around the slums as sorcerer's son by reputation, not by face.”

Hyeran’s eyebrows knit together. “Baekhyun,” she repeats. “Are you always purposely confusing?”

“Does it vex you, princess?” he asks, and he hopes she can see he’s teasing. She pouts, and Baekhyun is a poor, wretched weak thing for cute, pouting girls. He pouts back at her. “Don’t be such a metal man, girlie,” he whines. “No fun.”

“Metal man?”

Right. Of course the palace wouldn’t have such terms. “A guard,” Baekhyun explains. “Their armor, y’know? And they kind of stand still and do nothing but follow orders.” Hyeran’s face absolutely falls at that. She clears her throat.

“Because I’m the princess, you think I’m like that?” She states it clearly, like a challenge, but it’s not difficult to see how insulted she really is with the slight hunch in her shoulders. “That I just follow orders?”

“What?” Baekhyun backpedals. “No? I just… was relating you to the metal men- Um. Fuck. No. I- yeah, it just…wasn’t supposed to...ah, shit.” Baekhyun closes his mouth before he can fit both feet into it.

“I’m not like that,” Hyeran defends herself immediately. “I don’t just blindly follow orders-”

“You didn’t scream when I asked, though,” Baekhyun cuts in, and Hyeran’s face creases with her frustration. Foot in the mouth is staying there, it seems.

“You spelled me!” Hyeran protests. She leans down to grab the book from the floor, marching right up to Baekhyun and holding it out to him. Baekhyun doesn’t miss the way Hyeran’s hands tremble just the slightest bit, but he pretends not to. This close, he can smell her perfume, can see how she’s a few fingers’ width shorter than him. This close, he can’t even begin to deny how effortlessly beautiful she is.

The fire in her eyes encourages Baekhyun to reach out and take the book from her hands. In contact with him, the diagrams on the page it’s open to immediately begin to glow.

“Look at this!” Hyeran orders. “I’m studying original magic - illegal magic - under the king’s nose! I’m not some… some simple girl who only dresses up to look pretty in court! I have my own opinions and my own desires. I don’t want to just be like these _metal men_ running about the slums!” She breathes hard, her face flushed. She points an angry finger at Baekhyun, and Baekhyun doesn’t miss how elegant her hands are, how perfect for the intricate spell work of original magic they are. “So you tell me, exile, just exactly why you are here instead of insulting me with your slum language.”

She’s stunning. Absolutely _stunning_ in her fury. Baekhyun’s tongue loosens and the truth spills from him before he’s even told himself it’s okay to let the princess know his intentions.

“My name is Baekhyun,” Baekhyun repeats himself, tossing the book in his hands aside. If the pages crumble or tear, it doesn’t matter. Baekhyun has had that entire tome in its original form memorized since the age of five. That reworded mess of a copy means nothing. “I came to the palace to get revenge on the king for what he’s done to my family. If he wants to claim original magic is dangerous while he encourages people to practice fucking war magic, then I’ll show him just exactly how dangerous original magic is.” Sparks zip between his fingers. “And you can’t stop me, princess. I don’t care how much you think you know about original magic. I don’t care how many fucking books you’ve read or what stories about the dragonborns you get off to. What I care about is how your father is ruining his own kingdom with his fucked up war magic, and I’m not about to just fucking stand by and not send him a message.”

“You’re not even a citizen,” the princess responds with a sniff. “Why not just permit us to crash and burn on our own?”

Her complete lack of fear, her obvious intrigue, shakes Baekhyun’s almost enraged fire from his bones.

“I’m just a little rat shit like that, I guess,” Baekhyun offers. He shows her a lopsided smile, his eyes still narrowed in determination. “So would you do me a favor and point me in the direction of the king’s room?” For the first time since entering her room, actual terror twists Hyeran’s features.

 

“No,” she says. “I cannot tell you that. Do your own research like any other assassin. My father-”

“I’m not going to hurt ‘em,” Baekhyun cuts her off. It’s a blatant lie: he wants the king dead. “I just want to find his bed.” Hyeran’s fury and confusion are both a little intimidating and a lot adorable. Baekhyun needs to get a hold of himself. “I’m going to fucking nap on it.” There’s a second of pause, and then the princess blinks a few times as she comprehends his words.

Hyeran bursts into a fit of giggles, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth with her eyes wide as if her own voice had startled her. Despite his impatience, Baekhyun stands still in front of her so easily, his heart thudding a little bit in his chest. Her laugh, the short second of it that rang out, is charming.

Baekhyun is charmed.

And extremely confused by this princess.

“I could tell you,” Hyeran begins, the faintest giddy laugh still trapped behind her words. “But I have a better idea.” She takes a step closer to him, and Baekhyun immediately steps back out of her reach. If she doesn’t touch him, if he never touches her, maybe he can forget his immediate adoration of her.

She’s just really fucking pretty.

“Stepping out of her metal shell, princess?” Baekhyun asks. Hyeran frowns.

“I’ve never been in one,” she practically spits. “That’s why I have a better idea.”

Baekhyun is more than willing to humor her. “Do tell, sweetheart.”

“Teach me,” Hyeran says simply. “Teach me your original magic. You want to enrage my father?” She takes another determined step, and Baekhyun can’t move, enraptured by her words. She’s so close to him, bodies a mere handspan apart, and Baekhyun is enthralled by her brash actions. She’s nothing like the princess he would have imagined; she’s far better. “There is nothing that will make him more furious than having to exile his own daughter should he choose to maintain his own laws.”

That’s an idea. That’s one _hell_ of an idea. There’s so much wrong with it: broken traditions and risks. Still, Baekhyun is intrigued. He’s interested. Baekhyun’s mouth slowly turns into a wide, pleased grin.

“You speak so sweetly, princess,” he murmurs. “But that requires me risking my neck every time I want to teach you sumpthin’.” It requires a lot more than just risking his neck: it requires him breaking with what his father always told him about teaching someone original magic. It breaks the expectations of the line of original magic. It may ruin it. Still, Baekhyun shrugs. “I just came here to nap.”

Hyeran rolls her eyes, frustration seeping from her, and it just pleases Baekhyun so much to watch her, the person, seep through the cracks of the princess.

 _Calm the fuck down,_ he orders himself.

“You really do not carry much aspiration if your only wish is to sleep on my father’s bed.” She straightens her shoulders again. “Mine is more comfortable anyway.” This girl really is naive if she thinks he’s being honest when he says he just wants to nap. He wants to nap after he takes the king’s life, but if the bed in question is the princess’...

Baekhyun’s tongue slips. “Is that an invitation, princess?”

Hyeran’s face heats up bright red, and she stumbles back away from him. “N-no! It was not!” Baekhyun cracks up, laughing at her expression, at her innocence. 

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s say I come here to teach you my father’s magic. Let’s say you fucking excel at it. Then what?”

“I do not understand what you intend to ask,” Hyeran says.

“I can hide us in here, within the war magic ward around your rooms,” Baekhyun tells her. “Why do you think no one came running when I used my magic on you? They can’t sense it. If I step outside of the ward, they still won’t sense me because I’ve learned to hide my magical presence out of necessity in the slums. But you? When I get too far from this ward, if my concentration even wavers, it will shatter. And you, newbie original magic user, will be found.”

“Then just stay here,” Hyeran answers easily. “Keep the ward maintained.”

Baekhyun gapes at her. “Princess, maybe you didn’t notice, but I’m a man.”

“Oh, please, exile,” the princess responds, tone mocking and haughty. “If you wish to keep your head, you won’t dare lay a hand on me.”

She’s right, but still, Baekhyun reacts to the challenge before he’s thought it through. He steps in close, his ribs nearly brushing against her breasts. “Really?”

Hyeran colors, stepping back. “You will be rewarded handsomely, of course,” she says, voice a bit breathless as she tries to regain her composure. “Any amount of jewels and gold you want. I can provide it. I doubt my father will notice.” She scowls at that, bottom lip jutting out in the faintest pout.

Baekhyun sighs. “I’m not going to stay here, princess.” He doesn’t trust himself to stay the night with her, but he isn’t about to say that out loud. 

“You will teach me, however?” Hyeran prompts, and Baekhyun squeezes his eyes shut. He can maintain the ward from the slums. The cliffs will be harder, a stretch, a test of his limits, but he can do it.

“I shouldn’t…” he begins to protest again. “I should have knocked you out the moment I saw you and continued on to my nap.”

“But you didn’t,” Hyeran argues, persuades. Of course he didn’t. He couldn’t bear to harm such beauty. “So you will? Teach me?” She lowers her eyes and dips her head. One ankle slides behind the other, dipping her knees in a curtsy. “Baekhyun. Please.”

“Why in the seven hells do you want to learn anyway?” he says. “You’re risking your life, your position.”

“We all have our secrets, exile,” Hyeran answers smoothly. “Let us leave it at that.” Of all the things the princess has said this evening, that is the one with which Baekhyun can most agree. He’s caving.

Maybe it’s because he can’t stand to see her pretty fingers, already so powerful from her status, learn the destructive power of war magic. Maybe it’s because she’s just so pretty and Baekhyun’s heart is weak. Maybe it’s because he’s proud of his own magic, his own heritage, and wants to share it. Maybe it’s because he knows there is no better revenge he could exact on the king than this.

Maybe it’s because Baekhyun has always been reckless and not cared for self-preservation.

No matter the reason, Baekhyun finds himself nodding.

“Fuckin’ fine,” he growls. “I’ll teach you.”

Her fights lights up with the most brilliant smile, her eyes curving closed, and it’s so easy for Baekhyun to imagine her with her hair blowing around her face with the power of original magic, the heavy hem of her dress swirling around her ankles, making her appear ethereal.

“Tonight?” she asks. “Now?”

“Fuck no,” Baekhyun replies. “I have to bring some things. Prepare a little. Secure a route in here because as wonderful as the sewers are, I’m not- yeah. See that face you’re making?” Hyeran’s nose scrunches, upturned at the thoughts of the much below the castle. “That’s exactly why, princess.”

“You’re not… just trying to escape are you?”

“No,” Baekhyun says, and his own honesty surprises him. “I’m fucking serious. If you want to learn, I’m gonna teach you this shit fucking _right._ The way it should be taught.”

Hyeran blinks. Her words are slow. “When will I see you?”

Baekhyun thinks about it. “Seven days,” he promises. “Keep your eyes open, princess.” Her eyes are open right now, wide and focused on him, only on him. He turns then, spinning away from her and darting out the door. He pauses with one foot still in her room.

“One more thing.” He points at the book on the floor. “Don’t read that backwater rat shit.” The tome goes up in flames, and Hyeran’s shocked little shriek pulls a laugh from Baekhyun as the door closes behind him and he sprints back down through the castle, leaving his ward around Hyeran’s room thrumming and hidden.

He ducks through the hallways and keeps his hood low over his head, ignoring the squelch of the muck, escaping the same way he came in. He grins in memory of Hyeran’s disgusted face. She’s cute. Really fucking cute. He has a feeling she’s going to be good with his magic, and he looks forward to seeing the princess again.

For more than one reason, Baekhyun really fucking hopes he doesn’t come to regret this.

*

“Papa?” Baekhyun calls out, closing the door behind him with a flick of his wrist. The inside of the stone house he grew up in is warm despite the gray shades from the stone. The wind howls outside and the waves crash against the cliffs as they always do, but it’s more of a comfort than a terror. This is home to him; this is where original magic breathes free of the tragedy of war magic. 

There’s no response to Baekhyun’s call, and he sighs, dropping his boots and cloak in the front entrance exactly like how his mother always told him not to. “Mom, I’m home,” he whispers to no one. His socks snag on the uneven flooring, and Baekhyun snaps his fingers, flattening the floor again. The house is one built by magic and filled with magic. It’s stocked full with ancient texts of the kingdom’s history, of magic’s history. It’s inhabited by the last two original magic users of the original magic bloodline.

“Papa!” Baekhyun shouts again, and a muffled snore answers him from the direction of his father’s study. Baekhyun rolls his eyes, pushing the creaky door to the study open. Smoke blows in his face, and he coughs, waving his hand to clear it. The window shutters are wide open, letting in the rain and the air pressure from outside keeping the smoke trapped in a funnel inside. In the midst of it all, Baekhyun’s father sleeps, his overgrown hair strewn across his face, a few strands stuck to the drool on his chin. Baekhyun’s shoulders slump, and he points a finger out the window, directing the rain and the smoke outside. He strides over to the shutters and slams them shut.

His father jolts awake at the loud _bang!_ and sudden silence that follows.

“Huh?” he asks, rubbing at his face with ash-stained fingers. Bits of unburned paper fall from his loosened fists. “Wha- Son?”

“I’m here,” Baekhyun answers. “Are you?”

“I’m here,” his father responds, his eyes clear. He looks down at his hands. “I’ll go wash up.”

Baekhyun watches him go, his shoulders still drooping. His father’s obvious disappointment in himself seems to leave a haze of sadness through the house, but Baekhyun doesn’t blame him. Ever since Baekhyun’s mother passed, his father has been struggling between being present and being lost in the energies of the universe, searching for his mother’s heart. Magic has its limits; magic can’t reclaim the dead. But magic can’t disappear either; the energy continues even if the user does not. In this house, in certain things, Baekhyun can still feel his mother’s presence too, but he doesn’t let himself get lost in it the way his grief-stricken father does.

Isolation, too, has taken its toll on the old sorcerer, and it makes it hard for Baekhyun to want to stay here, to watch his father become less and less of the man who taught him his craft. He also doesn’t want to leave him; he still loves him, still respects him.

Baekhyun walks around to the other side of his father’s desk, sitting in his chair and flipping through the book his father had destroyed in his fit of reading the energies around him. The burnts pages can’t be repaired. Time cannot be unraveled. The cover of the book has no title, but the drawing of the magic circle that comes with acts of healing denote it to be a book of medicine. 

Baekhyun saves what he can of the tome and puts it back on the shelf. The missing chapter, chapter six, speaks of the magic for saving dying skin. Baekhyun closes his eyes for a moment, thinking of the burns on his father’s shoulders, the burn on his right ribs, from the explosion of magic that had followed his mother’s last breath. 

“If only you hadn’t left,” Baekhyun whispers to no one. “Don’t worry, Papa. I’ll clean up.” He sweeps his hand across the desk, gathering the ash and remnants of paper. With a nod of his head, one of the shutters creaks open halfway, and Baekhyun sends the ash and dirt out into the wind. The cliffs are an unforgiving place where nothing grows and nothing lives.

There’s no _living_ here - only _surviving._

“Baekhyun?” interrupts Beakhyun’s thoughts, and he hurries from the study, joining his father in the keeping room. He’s changed his clothes, heavy robes hanging around his frail frame. The skin on his hands is scrubbed clean. “Are you hungry?”

“Sure,” Baekhyun answers. “Potatoes?” he guess with a grin. His father’s return smile is just as weathered as the cliffs themselves.

“And rabbit and wild onions,” he says. “It’s almost a feast.”

The stew is not as tasty as the pheasant Baekhyun had eaten in Minseok’s tavern two nights hence, but it’s warmer, more enjoyable, talking mindlessly with his father about magic, about the coming winter, about everything and nothing all at once.

“You’re distracted,” his father states when Baekhyun sets his bowl down. He freezes, watching his father carefully. His father says nothing else, simply observing Baekhyun’s fingers, the main conductors of magic.

“It’s a family trait,” Baekhyun jokes, pushing himself to his feet. “Want another bowl?” His father waves a dismissive hand. Baekhyun makes the decision to pour him more anyway. The man doesn’t eat nearly enough.

“What’s on your mind?” his father asks. “Your wards are up. Did you run into a mind reader?”

Baekhyun sets his father’s refilled bowl down in front of him and says nothing.

“Baekhyun,” the old mage starts. Baekhyun gives him the faintest of nods. “Did he enter your mind?” Baekhyun purses his lips. His father sighs. “I know you go to the kingdom often, boy. But mind readers are-”

“Minseok,” Baekhyun cuts in. “I saw Minseok. One of his boys-”

“Ah.” Baekhyun’s father takes his turn to interrupts. “That Han boy.” He chuckles. “And you’re the reason Minseok got fucked over. What’s his name now?”

“Xiumin.”

“ _Xiumin,_ ” Baekhyun’s father repeats. “And what did Xiumin have that the little imposter rat couldn’t give you?” He means Jongdae. Baekhyun sits back down across from his father with his own bowl refilled. He frowns. His father has never liked Jongdae’s use of the name Lord Chen for himself, calling it disrespectful toward the man who brought magic to humanity in the first place. That Jongdae knows and practices war magic is just another nail in his coffin. 

Baekhyun shoves a bite of potato into his mouth, chewing quickly. He swallows. “A way into the palace,” he answers softly, quickly, hoping that maybe his father didn’t really hear him.

“Hm, the palace,” the old mage hums, taking another bite of stew which he promptly spats back into his bowl. “The _palace?_ Baekhyun, why in the seven would you-?”

“For nothing,” Baekhyun cuts in. “For nothing. I was just curious.”

“You’re lying,” his father accuses. Baekhyun again keeps his silence. His father sighs. “Just, be careful. Please, boy.”

“I will be,” Baekhyun promises. “I always am.”

“You’re still lying to me,” his father says, but he returns to his bowl anyway. “I trust you’ll tell me later when you’re in trouble. I’m still your father.” His gaze is piercing even as he misses his mouth attempting to take another bite of stew. 

“Yeah, Papa. I know.” That’s the end of the conversation, their next exchange being Baekhyun offering to clean up after dinner and his father informing him that he’s heading to bed. He grabs Baekhyun into a hug, thin arms still humming with his magical presence. Baekhyun doesn’t plan to stay for more than a night, and he supposes his father probably knows that.

Quietly, so as not to disturb his father, Baekhyun makes his way back into the study, running his fingers along the spines of the hundreds of books stored here. Muttering softly, he places wards around the books, making them untouchable by anyone whose magical presence is loud and clear. Hopefully this way, in his father’s fits of grief and spirit madness, he’ll be prevented from ruining the secrets to their shared craft. He calms his own magic and slips his fingers through his wards to pull books on the dragon histories and the roots of the techniques of original magic for Hyeran to read.

She’ll enjoy them, he thinks, and she’ll be amazed at the difference between these and the backwater trash she was reading when he found her. 

Baekhyun pauses in stacking his chosen books on his father’s desk, biting his bottom lip. Is he really doing this? Is he really about to trek all the way back to the palace with _books_ as his weapons in his plot against the king?

Hyeran’s pleading expression and determined language flits through Baekhyun’s mind, and he’d be a fool to go back into the princess’ presence and risk his life just to teach her magic.

He’d be a fool to ignore the princess’ inviting him into her rooms.

Baekhyun shakes his head. If he’s going to do this, he has to set ground rules for himself. No touching. No revealing who he really is. No slum speak- well, he already fucked that one up. No staying at the palace longer than a lesson. And above all else, do not let Jongdae or Minseok find out what he’s doing. Street lords and underground traders with vendettas against him would mean nothing good for the princess, and Baekhyun… Baekhyun already wants to keep her safe. That’s what a teacher should do for his student, right?

_Right._

Baekhyun grabs one of the leather satchels from the rack by the door and carefully deposits his chosen books into it along with a few artifacts that he’s certain his father won’t miss. He has to dig them out of the chest by the window anyway, and the layer of dust on that thing was clearly undisturbed.

He locks the chest and waves his fingers over the dust he’d knocked out of the way while opening it, smoothing the layer back into a seamless film of filth. Grabbing the bag, he makes his way out of the study and up the rickety steps to his room. The room is warm, charmed with a elemental ward. Baekhyun smiles.

“Thanks, Papa,” he murmurs. He drops the bag of books by the tiny chest in his room and collapses on his blankets. Before he can even begin to consider how much more comfortable Hyeran’s bed must be, how luxurious and perfect for napping, Baekhyun’s eyes slip closed.

He sleeps hard and wakes at the first sliver of dawn, still a couple hours before his father will wake. He stretches out the kinks in his neck and frowns at the wrinkles in his clothes. He frowns a little harder, and the wrinkles straighten themselves out. 

He’s not hungry yet, but Baekhyun grabs the bag of books and slips down to the kitchen, tucking an apple into the bag. Very few things grow out here, but the one apple tree his mother used to care for with her precise use of magic still thrives on the backside of the house with the help of Baekhyun and his father’s attentive care of it. 

Baekhyun blinks. His mother’s magic. Her jewelry. 

Dropping the bag by his boots and cloak at the front door, Baekhyun darts back up the steps to his father’s room. He silences his breathing and his footsteps with magic, collecting the energy from the unreleased sounds. He tiptoes into the room and to his mother’s jewelry box, opening the lid.

 _Thank you, Mom,_ he mouths. _’M sorry._ He lifts a pair of earrings from the box, little rubies that looked absolutely stunning dangling against his mother’s neck. The magic spelled into the jewels is still strong, tiny wards that block a magic user’s presence. Against Hyeran’s skin and hair, these will be exquisite. Even more importantly, they’ll protect her anywhere she goes. This far from the castle out in his father’s home, Baekhyun can’t feel the ward he placed around Hyeran’s room, and he imagines it’s probably flickering, only barely standing by drawing on the energy from the war magic ward he cast it against. He needs to get back to the kingdom before his ward falls, Hyeran’s dabbling in original magic discovered. 

Baekhyun tucks the earrings into his pocket anyway and magics the opening shut. He leaves his father’s room just as quietly as he came, bowing his head to his father on his way out. Even though Hyeran is a princess, a treasure like these, his mother’s earrings… Baekhyun’s not sure she deserves them. They’re priceless to him.

Baekhyun pulls his cloak over his shoulders and draws his hood up and over his head, wiggling his toes in his boots. His cloak is large enough to cover both the leather satchel he carries with him and the knife strapped to his thigh. It’s a two day journey back to the kingdom and another day to Jongdae’s side of the slums. From there, it’s a day’s walk to the palace walls. That will be the night when Hyeran expects to see him again.

“You crazy rat shit exile,” Baekhyun murmurs to himself, his voice snatched away by the wild, morning wind of the cliffs. He remembers Hyeran’s pretty hands, and his resolve hardens. He walks forward towards the kingdom, determined to not let the princess’ hands be ruined by war magic.

*

Baekhyun knows better than to just barge into Jongdae’s room after dark in his hidden maze of alleys and tapestries. It’s quiet in here, the torches only giving off enough light to see vague shadows. Baekhyun holds up a hand, allowing his magic to glow, lighting his way through Lord Chen’s slew of hiding places until he gets to the room Jongdae has claimed for himself.

Back within the kingdom like this, Baekhyun can sense the ward he has around Hyeran’s room. It’s still there, weakening without Baekhyun’s presence, and he sends his energy out towards it, hoping its protection will begin to thrum again.

Baekhyun drops his bag outside of Jongdae’s room and throws open the door.

“What in the seven-!” is cut off by a low moan that’s followed by one of Jongdae’s chuckles. Baekhyun rolls his eyes. He knows better than to walk in here after dark, knows what Jongdae and Sunyoung will be getting up to, but he doesn’t let that stop him. He’s seen it all already anyway.

“Ignore him,” Sunyoung murmurs, pulling Jongdae back down to her. “Come on, m’lord.”

Baekhyun can taste bile at the back of his throat.

“Wait a minute,” Jongdae urges even as he sinks back into Sunyoung’s hold, letting her roll them over. Sunyoung’s thigh covers the most important bits, but Baekhyun still rolls his eyes and glances away from Jongdae’s hand gripping her ass. “Sunyoung, m’lady. Come on. Off.” He pats her thigh, and Sunyoung gives the most dramatic sigh of long suffering before she pulls off him and flops to the side, not even bothering to cover herself.

Baekhyun supposes when a woman looks like Sunyoung does, there’s no reason to shamefully hide one’s self from anyone’s eyes.

“I didn’t expect you back so soon, mate,” Jongdae greets, pulling on his pants as he stands up to greet Baekhyun.

“I didn’t either,” Baekhyun agrees. “But something happened. I’m going to need to slum it here for a few days.”

“Days?” Jongdae asks.

Baekhyun shrugs. “Weeks, maybe. Depends on how it goes.”

“How _what_ goes?” Jongdae prompts. Baekhyun shrugs again.

“Can’t tell you that,” he evades. “But you’ll know soon enough, I imagine.” He grins, showing all his teeth. “The palace won’t be pleased.” Jongdae whines at his refusal and his hints, and Baekhyun shakes his head. “I’m just here to warn you that I’ll be around and that the guards might double up on their search for you.”

Jongdae snorts. “I’m not worried about the metal men. You, however…”

“Don’t worry about me,” Baekhyun says, trying to edge out of the room. “I’m the sorcerer's son, you know?”

Jongdae looks like he’s about to protest, but Sunyoung interrupts.

“Lover,” Sunyoung murmurs, standing from her and Jongdae’s bed. She’s absolute grace, walking across the frayed rugs to wrap her arms around Jongdae’s waist, pressing herself against his back. “Come back to me. Leave the exile for the morning, hm?” Her hands slide down Jongdae’s stomach, one slipping under the waistband of his trousers.

Baekhyun watches longing and want fill the voids in Jongdae’s expression left by his curiosity, and Baekhyun takes his cue to escape. Sunyoung is such a wonderful person, giving him an out like this.

“Just set me up a place, yeah?” Baekhyun says. “In a room that isn’t yours, preferably.”

“You will tell me what you’re doing,” Jongdae orders.

“Yeah,” Baekhyun promises vaguely. “Later.” _Never._

Jongdae’s frown is melted by the kiss Sunyoung presses to it, and Baekhyun shuts the door behind him, grabbing his pack of materials and setting out under the cover of night towards the inner city. By morning, he plans to be in Hyeran’s room again.

*

Baekhyun grimaces at the sewers in front of him, holding his breath as long as he can. He really doesn’t want to do this again. He takes a quick, gasping breath, trying to taste as little of the stench as possible.

“There’s got to be another way in,” he mumbles. He glances up towards the sky. If he could be fast enough, he could climb the castle walls. In the cloak of night, anyone who spots him would take two or three glances before realizing what they really were seeing. Unfortunately, Baekhyun doesn’t trust himself to successfully reach the balconies to the princess’ tower before he’s spotted.

He could render himself invisible, bending the light to create the illusion of nothingness, but then the use of magic would show out his magical presence, making it easy to discover him- wait.

Just fucking wait. He’s an idiot.

Baekhyun peels apart the magic holding his pocket closed and plucks his mother’s earrings from inside. He pulls the simple studs Jongdae gifted him back when they first became friends from his ears and drops them in his pocket instead. He had refused to wear Jongdae’s bracelets and rings, having no need for metals or gems through which he could conduct his magic. He carefully slips his mother’s earrings on in place of the simple silver studs. They feel heavy, the gemstones cool against his neck. Almost immediately, the air around him seems to become bland, the shimmer of magic he can usually see dampened by the wards he’s wearing.

He feels fucking ridiculous, but when he tests them, drawing his magic around himself to hide his visual presence and walks away from the sewers back out into the streets, none of the guards’ eyes follow him. Baekhyun grins. _Perfect._

“See you later, fuck shit,” Baekhyun spits back in the direction of the sewers and takes off towards the castle walls that rise up close to Hyeran’s rooms. The sky is going to start graying if he doesn’t hurry. Baekhyun braces himself and curls the air under his hands and feet, beginning to climb up the castle walls. He forces himself to breathe evenly, keeping his magic spinning around him, maintaining the illusion of nothingness and the air holding him up as he digs fingers and the toes of his boots into the cracks in the stones. 

His fingertips ache and his arms shake, but Baekhyun keeps going until the light of morning is bright around him as he climbs through Hyeran’s window, jerking his head to unlatch the lock on the stained glass. His shoulders cast a shadow across Hyeran’s room and he collapses, sitting on the floor and breathing hard, rubbing his fingers against his thighs to ease the ache. He regrets bringing all these books with him. The deadweight hadn’t helped him in his journey upwards.

The sheets rustle, and Baekhyun jolts up, trying to look casual, leaning against the window with his arms crossed.

Hyeran rises slowly, stretching her arms up. Her night dress leaves her shoulders bare, and Baekhyun forgets to stop himself before tracing the lines of her collarbones with his eyes. He can actually see the exact moment her eyes go into focus and notice him standing there, and he throws out his hand immediately to silence her startled scream.

“Good morning, princess,” Baekhyun greets, dropping his cloak and bag on the ground near the window. “Rise and shine.”

Hyeran grumbles something that Baekhyun’s spell completely muffles, and he pulls his hand back to himself to allow her to speak again.

“What was that?” he asks.

“Nothing kind,” Hyeran answers, her voice low and slightly rough with sleep. Baekhyun likes it. Hyeran makes to pull back her covers and suddenly freezes. “Might you… look the other way, please?” she asks. Baekhyun lifts an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Because I-” Hyeran pauses and frowns. “Well, it’s not proper-”

“You invited me into your rooms, sweetheart,” Baekhyun teases. “What’s left to be proper about?”

“My modesty,” Hyeran states plainly. “Now turn around or I’ll scream.”

Baekhyun pouts at her. “It’s not like your scream would even leave your mouth,” he says with a flick of magic on his fingers. Hyeran just glares, her cheeks heated with her frustration. Baekhyun turns to stare out the window not quite obediently.

“Thank you,” Hyeran’s voice comes from behind him followed by the rustle of her sheets and the sound of her feet across the plush rug.

“I’m just a tad confused,” Baekhyun tells her, copying her posh accent. “When I first came up here, you offered me your virtue, remember?” He gives a dramatic sigh. “How kind of me to reject a chance to fuck-”

“You will be silent,” Hyeran orders. Her words tremble with embarrassment, but they’re sure and strong. Baekhyun smiles to himself. She’s going to excel at original magic if she can keep up this commanding nature. Magic is its own entity; it doesn’t bend on a whim. “You can turn around now. I’m decent.”

 _Decent_ , Baekhyun turns to find, means that Hyeran has simply tied a dressing gown around her night dress, the deep navy trimmed in gold and red. It’s not decent at all; it’s clothing she shouldn’t wear in front of anyone but her husband and maidservants. Baekhyun swallows.

Hyeran’s head tilts to the side.

“Are you…” she starts, walking up close to him, a crinkle of confusion on her forehead, “wearing womens’ earrings?”

He is. Shit. He still is.

Baekhyun flushes. He stammers, “Uh… uhm. I-” Hyeran’s laughter rings prettily, and she doesn’t bother to hide her open mouth behind a hand. It’s an open and free sound. Baekhyun would very much like to hear more of it.

“You are!” Hyeran laughs. “Trying to impress me, exile?”

Baekhyun clears his throat, forcing a smirk onto his face and lifting an eyebrow. “Can you honestly say it’s not working, princess?” He leans forward, hands carefully folded behind his back, far away from her. “Aren’t you just real fuckin’ impressed?”

Hyeran’s throat works as she swallows, eyes on the red gems dangling against Baekhyun’s throat. She rolls her eyes, turning around with a profoundly unimpressed huff. “No,” she declares. “Though I suppose it allows me to breathe easier knowing the man I invited into my room is interested in other men.” Baekhyun would very much like to imagine that her barb was spoken with a dash of disappointment. 

Baekhyun balks and stutters. “I’m not- I- princess, you- that-” He stops, straightening up. “My friends from Madame Le’s would be so fucking amused at that,” he says. “The slums too.”

“Amused at what, exactly?”

Baekhyun’s in control of the conversation again. “That you would think I like men because of a little _sparkle,_ ” he answers, tugging the earrings from his ears. He drops them in his pocket and pulls out the studs Jongdae gave him. He lifts his voice into an imitation of Hyeran’s elite accent. “I won’t go into too much detail lest I disrupt your innocence.” He laughs then. “Let’s just say I’ve been quite popular among the painted ladies.”

It’s not an untrue statement, but it seems to suggest more than the truth. Sure, Baekhyun’s no stranger to the brothels after the mess with Junmyeon and Han, but he’s always been too poor to afford the company of prostitutes, too invested in revenge to be anything more than a rare partaker of women.

His father’s strict discipline and his own formerly rampant magic made sure of that.

“Of course,” Hyeran says immediately, and this time, Baekhyun’s sure that’s disappointment he hears in her tone. “An exiled magic user within my father’s kingdom?” She snorts in the most dainty fashion. “A treat, I’m certain.”

“They were all interested in my magic just as you are, sweetheart,” Baekhyun tells her. “But only you are interested for reasons I cared to listen to.” He gives Hyeran the most sincere, soft smile he can manage. “You’re a smart girl. Surely you can understand what I really mean.”

Her expression relaxes and her shoulders are straight but not rigid. It was the right thing to say. “You want me to believe you’re less than lecherous?” Hyeran guesses.

“I want you to believe I’m here with nothing more than intentions to teach you the magic of my family,” Baekhyun corrects her. “Why else would I place this ward here?” He presses his hand against the wall, and the circular patterns of his magic spinning out under his touch. He allows them to glow brightly, the pale blue dancing around his fingers and highlighting the flush of intrigue on Hyeran’s cheeks.

She’s beautiful.

“Teach me,” she breathes, reaching out towards the ward. The sparks seem to gravitate towards her fingers, dancing around her knuckles, and Baekhyun yanks his hand back to himself before she can make contact with him. 

“That’s why I’m here,” Baekhyun agrees. He draws his hand away from the ward, and the glow in the room disappears, leaving only morning light in its place. He leans down to grab his satchel from the floor and strides over to the princess’ dressing table. She trails after him curiously, her slippers a soft swish in contrast to the harsh tap of Baekhyun’s boots. “But first,” he explains, pulling books from his pack, “you have to read these.” He taps the cover of each one as he goes across the newly placed row of literature. “History, theory, dragon song, practice-”

A knock at the servant’s door cuts him off.

“Your Highness,” is called through the door, and Baekhyun whips around to stare at Hyeran. Her eyes are wide, more panicked than he’s ever seen them. 

“My lady-in-waiting,” she whispers, a hand against her chest.

“Your Highness, are you awake?”

Baekhyun gestures at the door. “Answer her!” he hisses.

“A-ah,” Hyeran stutters, looking from Baekhyun’s hands on the books on her desk to him to the door. “Yes, Siyeon! A moment please!” Silence answers Hyeran’s call.

“Well?” Baekhyun prompts. “Are you going to go out there or not?”

Hyeran’s eyebrows furrow. “No?” She looks positively affronted. “Why would royalty go out to meet her servant? Siyeon will come in here.” She crosses her arms. Her naivety is only charming when it’s not about to get Baekhyun fucking locked in the dungeon towers or beheaded.

“Fucking great,” Baekhyun says. “That’s a really great idea to invite someone in while you’ve got an exile in your chambers, you know?” Hyeran flushes, and Baekhyun sighs. “Is your lady-in-waiting a magic user?”

Hyeran shakes her head. “She’s not allowed to,” she explains. “My father’s rules.”

“Thank fuck,” Baekhyun mutters. “Act natural, girlie. I’m not even here.” Hyeran’s confusion fades into wonder, watching Baekhyun twist his fingers in front of him, bending the light, around him. Her mouth drops open as Baekhyun fades from her view. He winks at her; the blush that rises in her cheeks is so hopelessly cute. The princess stares at the place where Baekhyun still stands, squinting as if the harder she looks, the more she’ll be able to break through his illusion.

There’s a knock again. “Your highness?”

“Let her in,” Baekhyun orders, and Hyeran startles.

“You may enter, Siyeon,” she calls out at the same time that Baekhyun realizes that although he is hidden, his books on the vanity, satchel underneath it, and his cloak by the window are very much sore thumbs in Hyeran’s opulent room. 

“Shit,” he whispers at the same moment as the door opens. There really isn’t time to think about what he’s doing, he takes a few steps forward, throwing his hand out within his illusion to also cover his cloak sitting on the ground by the window. 

“Your highness,” Siyeon greets, curtsying. “Good morning.”

“Don’t be so formal, Siyeon,” Hyeran says, waving a dismissive hand. Siyeon rises from her curtsy, and Baekhyun realizes too late that he now stands in front of Hyeran, between her lady-in-waiting and the princess herself. Siyeon squints.

“Your highness?” Siyeon asks, squinting a little more. Baekhyun takes a hurried step to the side.

“Are you feeling alright?” Hyeran asks, and Siyeon brings her hands up to rub at her eyes. Baekhyun takes the moment to dive across the room and gather up his cloak, throwing it around himself and adding it to the illusion.

“I’m fine, your highness,” Siyeon promises. “Something in my eyes, I suppose.” She offers the princess a bright smile. “Come. Let’s get you dressed.” She steps forward, taking Hyeran’s elbow and leading her back into the hall from which Hyeran appeared the first time Baekhyun entered her room. Siyeon pauses halfway there, her eyes lingering on the vanity. “You’ve been reading again,” she states. The disapproval is clear in her tone. 

“Fuck me,” Baekhyun whines to himself. His gut clenches as the lady-in-waiting reaches out curious fingers towards the covers of the books laid out on Hyeran’s vanity.

“Those are old,” Hyeran says, voice sharp and leaving no room for questioning. Hidden by the window, Baekhyun smirks. _Good girl._ “Come, Siyeon. Tell me what my father wants me for today. Please tell me I don’t have to attend court. I really hate it.”

Siyeon laughs at the princess’ words then, following after her into the hall. Her wardrobe must be there, or maybe her bathroom. For all Baekhyun knows, those might be in an entirely different wing of this tower. As soon as the hem of Hyeran’s dressing gown has disappeared behind the stone corner, Baekhyun hurries to the vanity and drops the books into his satchel, hiding it under his cloak.

What was he thinking, coming here in the morning? 

Right. A rat shit brain like his wasn’t thinking.

At the vanity, Baekhyun traces his fingers over the carved boxes filled with jewelry. Every gem alone has to cost more than Baekhyun’s father’s entire house, each more beautiful than the last, but the weight of the ruby earrings in his pocket reminds him that he’s not here to steal for monetary gain. He’s here for revenge in the way that will most devastate the king.

“Pearls and diamonds, I think,” Siyeon’s voice enters the bedroom just before she does, still holding Hyeran’s arm.

Baekhyun momentarily forgets to breathe.

The silver-embroidered red gown Hyeran wears is stark against her pale skin, the sleeves falling over her elegant hands.

“A pair that isn’t too heavy, please, Siyeon,” Hyeran asks with a hint of a whine in her voice. It’s playful, charming.

“The queen prefers you wear something more opulent,” Siyeon hedges. Hyeran shrugs.

“If I have to sit in court for the morning, I do not want my ears to be aching by lunch.” She reaches up to slide the simple earrings she’s currently wearing from her ears. “If my mother wants to stretch her ears with weighty pieces, then that’s her choice.”

Hyeran moves towards her vanity, and Siyeon hurries ahead of her to pull the bench out for Hyeran to sit. Baekhyun jolts out of the way, and he flinches when Siyeon’s head turns in confusion when he accidentally knocks her arm with his elbow. “Siyeon?” Hyeran calls, drawing the lady-in-waiting’s attention. “Are you sure you’re alright? Did you have enough sleep?”

“I’m…” Siyeon takes a breath. “I’m fine, your highness.”

Hyeran hums. “Well, do get some rest after this. I’ll be in court all day. Both of us need not suffer through that.”

“Thank you, your highness,” Siyeon says with a brief curtsy. She opens the center jewelry box and draws out a pair of earrings dangling with diamonds and pearls. “Will these do?” Hyeran shrugs and takes the earrings from her lady-in-waiting, hooking them on. She turns her face side to side to look at them, and the unblemished skin of her throat is unfairly tantalizing. Baekhyun swallows.

“They’ll do,” Hyeran decides.

“I’ll tie your hair up,” Siyeon offers, and Baekhyun watches, fascinated, as the lady-in-waiting pins Hyeran’s hair on her head twisting it in and over itself until her braids almost create a crown on their own. She’s so regal like this, undeniably royal. Siyeon pins the tiara on Hyeran’s head, and Baekhyun chokes on his next breath as Hyeran adjusts her corset.

Even unintentionally, this girl is dangerous.

“Siyeon, I can escort myself to court,” Hyeran announces, standing. She waves Siyeon away from fussing over her skirt, and Siyeon pouts.

“At least let me rouge your cheeks,” she begs, and Hyeran sighs, sitting back down and holding still for only a moment for Siyeon to rub color into her cheeks and lips. It’s unnecessary, Baekhyun thinks as Siyeon pats powder over Hyeran’s face. The princess is so much cuter when she’s blushing than when her face is artificially colored.

Like this, however, she’s gorgeous, more mature. Baekhyun wonders vaguely if the queen is even half as beautiful as her daughter. Soon, he’ll teach her enough for her magical presence to lift the weight from her clothing, making her appear as if she’s floating, as if she’s one of the ancient dragonborn herself.

“I’ll take dinner in my chambers tonight,” Hyeran orders. “I’ll call for you when I'm hungry.”

“Yes, your highness.”

“Now, go rest,” Hyeran says. “You look like you could use it. I won’t need you today.”

If Siyeon is upset by the dismissal, she doesn’t show it, simply curtsying again and leaving out the servants’ doors.

Baekhyun clears his throat and lets the illusion drop from around him. Hyeran startles at his reappearance, and under the make-up, Baekhyun can just barely make out her natural blush.

He claps, slow and sarcastic. “Sweetheart,” he croons. “Who knew you could dress up so well?”

“Quiet,” Hyeran snaps. “What do you know of royal fashion?”

Baekhyun steps in close to her, dropping his bag and cloak along the way. Still, he holds his hands behind his back. “Princess,” he whispers. “I very sincerely think you look very pretty.” Hyeran’s flush this time can’t be held back by make-up.

“Th-thank you,” she stammers. “I… I-um…” She coughs, hiding the sound behind a hand. “I have to go to court today, and then my father wants my mother and I to join him on a carriage ride so…” She brushes an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear. “So just wait here. I’ll be back. Tonight.”

“Tonight,” Baekhyun echoes. “And what in the seven should I do here?”

“Sneak out and cause trouble,” Hyeran suggests. “Destroy more of my books. Take a nap.” She gestures at her bed. “The bedclothes were just washed yesterday.”

What.

“Are you fucking serious?” Baekhyun demands, his voice cracking.

Hyeran bursts into a laugh, the red paint on her mouth illuminating her smile. “You said you came to the palace to nap, did you not?”

Baekhyun can do some pretty fucking awesome things with magic, but Baekhyun is still just a man. He needs his rest.

“Why the fuck not, right?” he agrees. “You have fun in court, and I’ll keep your bed warm for when you get back. Sound fair, princess?”

Hyeran rolls her eyes and doesn’t dignify him with an answer, choosing to stride out the main entrance to her chambers with her head held high. A faint murmur of metal men voices saying ‘princess’ and ‘your highness’ follows her exit, and then Baekhyun is alone in the princess’ room.

Shamelessly, he wanders deeper into her rooms and into the hall. Racks and hooks in a wardrobe hold up a multitude of clothes. Baekhyun brushes his fingers over the luxurious fabric of her dresses and the soft cotton of plain clothing. He wonders, closing the wardrobe and peering into the stone bathroom, if he’ll be able to teach Hyeran to use her body to enhance her magic’s ability to fight. The tub sits empty, a few soaps sticking to the ground beside it. Baekhyun turns away and heads into another room, this one filled floor to ceiling with books.

He doesn’t recognize most of the works, his entire childhood having been filled with reading strictly about the history of magic and the language of dragons. A few books have poorly drawn depictions of the circles of original magic on them, and Baekhyun goes to them, pulling them one by one from the shelves until they’re organized in stacks of five.

“ _Burn,_ ” Baekhyun whispers into his hands, and he sends the magic out into the stacks of books, burning them silently, gathering up the ash and smoke when they’ve been completely decimated and tossing them carelessly out of Hyeran’s window. 

“So much better,” he tells the empty room. “No more rat shit magic in here.” He claps his hands together and wags a finger at the satchel sitting in a heap with his cloak on the ground. The air around the bag condenses and lifts it to him. “History,” Baekhyun says, pulling out the first book and setting it back where it was on Hyeran’s vanity. “Theory. Dragon song. Practice.” When all of the books are laid out, Baekhyun sets the artifacts he brought there too and leans over to snatch his cloak off the ground, stuffing it in the bag.

He yawns.

Continuing on his shameless exploration of Hyeran’s rooms, Baekhyun approaches the princess’ bed and presses one hand down on it. It gives so easily, wonderfully soft. He’d be stupid to miss this chance; Hyeran gave him permission, after all. He kicks off his boots and tugs off his tunic and shirt, dropping them both carelessly to the ground.

The bedclothes do smell clean, but they also smell like Hyeran’s perfume, and Baekhyun sinks under the covers. His eyes drift closed, and he slips into sleep far too easily for being in the palace, under threat of death should he be discovered.

*

“Have you slept all day?” wakes Baekhyun from his dreamless sleep, and he jolts upright, his magic crackling at his fingers. He blinks, and Hyeran blinks back at him, her face so, _so_ close to his. If Baekhyun turned his head just so and lifted his chin, he could kiss her.

He’s not going to, but _oh_ how he wants.

Instead, he slowly works a smarmy grin onto his face. “What the fuck of it, princess? Jealous?” He flops back and pats the space next to him. “Join me, then.”

Hyeran rolls her eyes and wrinkles her nose. “No, thank you,” she sniffs, but Baekhyun doesn’t miss the way her eyes flick to his bare shoulders and arms, the question in her eyes when she sees the burn on his side. He feels emboldened with her looking at him, stealing glances at his skin and focusing so fully on his face.

Baekhyun shrugs as best he can with his shoulders encased in the softest pillows ever made. The covers slide down a bit more to the tops of his ribs. He hums a vague tune. “You’re really missing the fuck out,” he says. “This bed is fucking amazing. Come lay your pretty head down.” This time he pats his chest just to watch Hyeran flush.

“I thought we were here to study magic,” Hyeran reminds him, eyes intentionally focused just over Baekhyun’s head. _Cute._ “Get up, exile.” She steps back from her bed, and Baekhyun just groans.

“Do I hafta?” he whines to himself. Before Hyeran can issue a response to that, he throws the covers back, and her flush increases to twice as much. “Shall I pose for you?” Baekhyun offers in a sing-song voice. “You can draw a picture and keep it for your loneliest nights.”

Hyeran scoffs, and Baekhyun laughs, eyes closed with the force of it. Something hits his face, and Baekhyun’s laughter cuts out with a surprised cough. He opens his eyes to off-white fabric, and he blinks as he peels his own shirt off his face.

Did she just…?

Hyeran’s arms are crossed, but she looks wonderfully pleased with herself. So she _had_ just thrown Baekhyun’s own shirt at him. That fire in her, that spark- that’s what Baekhyun is going to turn into a great magical presence and train to be a power that will remind the king why he so feared original magic in the first place.

“Well, what do you know?” Baekhyun teases, sliding off the bed. He bites his bottom lip to keep himself from smiling too much at the way Hyeran keeps herself pointedly faced away from him, trying to sneak glances of his bare torso anyway. “The princess has a little rat shit in her just like the slum rats.”

“Royal is only a title,” Hyeran tells him. Baekhyun pulls his shirt on and leans down to grab his tunic. “We’re still people too. Not gods.”

“Ain’t that the fucking truth,” Baekhyun agrees as he pulls the lacing on his shirt tight. “But it’s real nice to hear you say it, sweetheart.” He gets his boots fastened and looks at the princess, dressed once again in her night dress and dressing gown.

 _Shit,_ Baekhyun thinks, because as nice as Hyeran looked in her court dress, this Hyeran, the once in comfortable clothes with her make-up wiped from her face, is the most stunning to him. “When did you change?”

The princess just waves her hand in a vague gesture. “While you were still napping,” she answers as if changing in the same room as a sleeping stranger is fucking _normal._

“And then you woke me,” Baekhyun says because what else is there to fucking say in response to _that_? He clears his throat. “You woke me when you could have started reading the books I brought you?”

Hyeran looks down at her feet in what appears to be the slightest amount of shame. The slippers she wears show off just how dainty her feet are. Baekhyun wasn’t aware royalty could feel shame, but he’s learning with every passing minute that Hyeran isn’t storybook royalty. In status, she is, but in action, she’s closer to the slum rats with whom Baekhyun spends all of his time. Maybe that’s why he’s so enamoured by her. 

“Um, I suppose I could have started reading,” Hyeran begins.

“Hey,” he cuts her off. “I’m teasing. You can start reading when I’m not here. I don’t want to fucking waste time lounging around watching you read.” That’s a lie. He could watch her read and never tire of watching her expressions as she attempts to understand the text.

“Alright then,” Hyeran says. She holds out her hands, fingers spread, and Baekhyun can so easily envision sparks dancing in the gaps. “How does this all work?”

Baekhyun’s heart leaps. His smile is bright. He remembers the first lesson his father gave him nearly two decades ago. “First,” he begins, “you sit down, and you listen.”

Hyeran blinks at him, a little surprised, a little confused, but Baekhyun settles down cross-legged on her rug and waves his fingers at her, encouraging her to join him on the floor. She settles gently on her knees across from him, the skirts of her dressing gown spreading out around her, and Baekhyun clears his throat, composing himself and his thoughts. He takes a breath.

“Magic,” he explains, keeping his tone formal, “real magic, original magic, doesn’t come from an intent to do something but from the continuous energy around you and within you. This is the ultimate problem with war magic, the inherent issue with elemental magic, and the reason mind magic users never live long. Every branch of magic is rooted in original magic, but just like how they don’t use original magic itself, they use botched theory and practice of original magic.”

He lifts his hands from his knees, magic glowing on his skin. With careful touches, he draws a basic diagram of original magic, the interlocking circles never-ending, the sparks spinning, dimming and glowing bright again as they’re thrown from circle to circle, the motion continuous, undying.

“This is original magic,” he states.

“I know,” Hyeran tells him. “I have read as many books as I could find hidden in my father’s study and the palace librar-”

“I burned them,” Baekhyun states, closing his hand. His diagram flickers out.

Rage takes Hyeran’s features instantly. “Why?” she demands.

“Because those books were written after my father’s exile,” Baekhyun answers. “They take all the lessons he tried to teach and cover them with backwater and fill them with shit. Those books were twisted versions of the truth. Did they tell you that Chen was the son of dragons? Did they tell you he worked for years to bring magic to humans so we could coexist with them?” He stares at the princess, daring her to defy him, and she doesn’t.

Rage melting from her expression, Hyeran shakes her head. “No,” she whispers.

“Exactly,” Baekhyun spits. “Those books weren’t written to be educational. They were written to fucking undermine my family’s magic. They were written to destroy who we are. What this is.” At that, he opens his hand again, and the circular diagram opens again brighter than before. “Touch it,” he encourages. “Feel how the energy moves.”

Hyeran hesitates, but curiosity wins out as Baekhyun knew it would. He keeps his breathing steady, his power as gentle as he can so as not to harm the princess. Her features glow under the light of his magic; her hands look at place amongst the circles spinning around her wrists as she seeks with curious fingers to understand the endless formation that Baekhyun is showing her.

“Incredible,” she breathes.

Baekhyun focuses and exhales. The circle morphs, turning into interlocked triangles, the lines sharp. The energy starts at one side and exits on the other. Sweat beads at Baekhyun’s forehead, and Hyeran gasps and draws her hand away, clutching at her fingers as if burned.

“This is war magic,” he pants. “It only contains intent to harm” -he points at the top point of the triangle- “and intent to protect.” He points at the long side on the bottom. “Sword and shield. The energy builds here at the shield and exits via the sword. It doesn’t return.” He opens the diagram back into the circles of original magic and breathes easy again, wiping at his forehead with the heel of his hand. “And this, sweetheart, is where war magic fails.”

“Because once the energy is gone, it’s gone,” Hyeran states, nodding in understanding. “It weakens the user.” Her eyes go wide. “The gemstones.”

“And the metals,” Baekhyun agrees. “Exactly, right. Rocks and metals were forged with fire and pressure. They still hold traces of the energy from their creation. They can also be filled with energy and store it for later use in battle.” He thinks of the earrings in his pocket. “There’s also complex magic for lacing gemstones with working spells… wards and the like.”

Hyeran worries her lip as she thinks. “Street Lord Chen…” she muses. “That’s what all his bracelets are for?” Her eyebrows slant down. “But I thought… isn’t he an original magic user?”

“No,” Baekhyun tells her. “He’s just real fucking crafty with war magic. We’re friends, he and I. With me around, it looks like he’s an original magic user. Didn’t I tell you that already?”

“You mentioned something like that,” Hyeran confirms. “I just… hadn’t quite made the connection.” Her embarrassed flush almost makes Baekhyun feel like an asshole, but he’s rat shit anyway.

“Yeah,” he says. “That’s what all his bracelets and rings are for. To contain his energy. His output is fucking terrifying when he really lets it go. He’s practically lightning itself.”

“Continue to talk in such a way, and I’ll be forced to believe you’re in love with him,” Hyeran states.

“Fuck off,” Baekhyun responds immediately, and then clamps his mouth shut. For all his swearing around her, he doesn’t want to actually swear _at_ her like that. Hyeran just lets out a laugh.

“If my mother heard me use language like yours, I would surely have my tongue cut from my mouth,” Hyeran says. She stutters through her next words, whispering them so softly Baekhyun almost misses it, but she still says them. “But… but _fuck it_.”

Baekhyun stares. “What. In. The. Seven. Did you just…?” He cracks up, his chest full of something akin to pride. Affection? He ignores it. “Fuck, princess. You’re too fuckin’ much.” He’s still laughing, a little proud, a little surprised at the filthy language from someone so pure, when he opens up his magic circle and morphs it into the square of elemental magic. He tells Hyeran about the four main elements and how they play off each other, the absence of one meaning the other three are out of balance.

“Harmony,” he tells her. “That’s the purpose. We use the elements in original magic too, but that looks more like this.” The elemental diagram twists, the lines bending into ellipses. “Continuous,” Baekhyun explains. “That’s the key. To never end.”

“Never end,” Hyeran echoes him. “And mind magic?”

“A double helix,” Baekhyun answers simply. He doesn’t make the diagram lest he become curious and enter Hyeran’s mind. It would be so easy; she doesn't yet know how to make wards around herself and within herself like Baekhyun does. He’s going to teach her, make her nearly impossible to defeat. Make her the princess and heir apparent that this kingdom needs.

“But I don’t understand how that leads to early death?” Hyeran asks. Baekhyun allows his magic to flicker and fade until it’s just him and Hyeran in a room lit by torchlight. 

“To enter someone’s mind in a direct line like that, you disrupt both your own energy and the person whose mind you’re entering. But as the magic user, the repercussions go directly back to you. All magic has repercussions, but original magic only grows stronger with use, compounding back in on itself eternally.” Baekhyun sighs. “That’s why it’s banned. Original magic is the magic of dragons. It’s more powerful than the word of a king.”

“Only if the users of original magic choose to use it that way,” Hyeran states. Her lips turn down in a frown. “It does not seem right to me to ban someone for crimes they could commit instead of crimes they actually have.”

“Those in power fear any power not their own,” Baekhyun says, and in his mind’s eye, he can see his father telling him these exact words. “Except you. It’s fascinating as fuck.”

Hyeran seems to glow with the praise. It’s a good look on her. 

“Okay,” Baekhyun starts. “Let’s fucking do this.” He opens a small circle, only the size of his palm, and presents it to Hyeran. “Hold out your hand.”

“What?” Her lips tremble slightly.

“Don’t worry,” Baekhyun assures her. “I’m right here, yeah? Right fucking here. I won’t let you hurt yourself. Hold out your hand.” Hyeran listens slowly, following Baekhyun’s instruction with a level of trepidation that Baekhyun is going to love watching fade away when he passes this magic to her. “Breathe even,” he directs, breathing in and out in an exaggerated manner for Hyeran to copy. When she’s got it, he nods. “Keep your eyes on me.”

The princess seems frozen, staring at Baekhyun’s face, breathing and waiting. Baekhyun cracks a grin.

“Look,” he says, pointedly looking down at her hand. Hyeran does too, and she gives a little squeal of excitement, of shock, when she sees the magic circle now held over her own palm. “Feel that?” Baekhyun asks. “It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t tire. That’s original magic.”

Hyeran’s smile is wide, unrestrained. She flicks her fingers against the circle, watches it shift and move. “Can I…?” she starts, holding it over both hands.

“Breathe,” Baekhyun reminds her. “Your breath circulates. Your blood circulates. Your body is the source of your own energy.”

Hyeran exhales, and the circle glows and grows.

“That’s it, princess,” Baekhyun soothes. “Now focus on something you have here. Air, for example. Make it move.”

Hyeran’s forehead creases, her lips drawn down as she focuses. Nothing happens. The circle in her hand flickers, the shape wobbling.

“Remember,” Baekhyun reminds her, keeping his voice gentle. If he scares her now that she’s holding power she doesn’t know how to use, the reaction could be on the verge of catastrophic. Although Baekhyun is positive he can contain it, he doesn’t want her to fear trying again. “It’s a circle. Not one direction. The energy comes back.”

Hyeran breathes again, closing her eyes this time, and Baekhyun waits. He doesn’t count the seconds that pass, but many of them had ticked by before very gently, very barely, the barest hint of a breeze passes through Hyeran’s room. It grows stronger exponentially, flipping the pages of books lying around the room, stirring the tapestries on the walls and ruffling her hair and clothes. She opens her eyes and her mouth drops open, her eyes wide as she watches and directs.

“Is this… me?”

“All you, princess,” Baekhyun confirms. “All fucking you.”

Hyeran laughs, bright, clear, and the light in the room glows brighter. The breeze cuts out when she closes her hands. “More,” she demands, breathless. “Show me.”

So Baekhyun does, directing her on how to condense the air around something to lift it, how to steal the light from a fire, how to seek out the energy within herself to create sparks. The pale blue of original magic is stunning on her. Baekhyun shows her how to pass energy back and forth between them, makes her observe how it grows between them.

“Will it just… keep… becoming more?” Hyeran asks, words spaced between her concentration as she carefully takes the energy and passes it back to Baekhyun, using both hands. He leans back on one hand and lazily flicks the magic back to Hyeran with one finger or a slight jerk of his head.

“Fuck yeah it will,” Baekhyun says. “Original magic comes from dragons, right?” Hyeran nods, and the magic almost dives into the floor with the motion. Baekhyun grabs it, lifting it back into an easy circle for her. “Dragons are social creatures, like humans. So their magic, this magic, is stronger with more than one person.”

“My father has always feared an uprising,” Hyeran states. Baekhyun just nods. They pass another few minutes just breathing, passing magic between them. As Hyeran relaxes, Baekhyun does too, watching her more than he watches the magic. The glow on her skin, the concentration on her face. She’s beautiful, truly.

He waves his whole hand at the next pass, and Baekhyun sees her eyes go wide, fear lighting in them as she falls back, hands up to guard her face.

Too much.

“Shit,” he curses, diving forward and curling his whole body around the magic, absorbing it. It feels like a punch to the gut, and he coughs, collapsing on the floor, trying hard to get his breath back in his lungs.

“Baekhyun!” Hyeran cries, leaning over him worriedly. She reaches out, fingers close to his cheek. Baekhyun turns his face away.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps out. “Sorry.” He pushes himself up on his elbows, flinching at too much energy racing through his veins. “That was my fault. My fault.”

“But- but that was- are you alright?” Hyeran’s hands are still hovering over him, afraid to touch, unsure if she can. Baekhyun would really rather she not touch him; he doesn’t think he’ll be able to forget it. She’s a dangerous enough woman already.

He forces himself to smile. “I’m fine,” he says even though he can faintly taste blood at the back of his throat. “I’ve taken way fucking worse.”

“But-”

“Princess,” Baekhyun states. “I’m fine.” He pushes himself all the way up and takes a deep breath, swallowing back the taste of blood. The amount of energy running rampant under his skin makes him jittery, but he can control it. He didn’t lie; his father used to hit him with worse attacks just to make Baekhyun understand that energy doesn’t die. It breathes and lives too. Baekhyun relays this to Hyeran.

“It’s always there, always around you,” Baekhyun tells her. “Energy that powers magic exists first in you and then in the spaces around you. You just...nurture it into what you want to happen. It’s the partner that will never betray you as long as you don’t betray it.”

“War magic is a betrayal,” Hyeran states. “I see.” There’s a few moments of silence as she muses over what she’s learned, flicking her fingers to spin a magic circle into existence and then back out again. The taste of her energy in the air sits on Baekhyun’s tongue, and if everything continues like this, minor mistakes amidst huge leaps and bounds, he won’t come to regret training her. She’s eager to learn and yearns for success.

They’re bonded by the same goal, one of the greatest connections that people can have.

“Can I ask you something else?” Hyeran inquires, breaking Baekhyun from his thoughts, and Baekhyun’s voice is a little breathless when agrees.

“Anything.”

“If you don’t need any metals or gems to maintain your power, then why do you have those earrings?” She points at the simple silver studs in Baekhyun’s ears.

Baekhyun touches a finger to his left ear, remembering Jongdae’s pout on the day he had given these to Baekhyun. “Chen is hopelessly fond of me,” he answers with a wink. Hyeran snorts. “He gave me these because I refuse to wear his bracelets. I’m not taking on a symbol of magic that goes against everything I’ve been taught. Still, Chen… insists on having some sort of claim on his people. His lover wears earrings from him too, but she doesn’t wear his bracelets.”

“Lady Luna,” Hyeran says in wonder. “You know her too?”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun confirms. “She’s fucking Chen.” He shrugs; Hyeran blushes. 

“O-oh,” she stammers. “I see.” She tucks a loose lock of hair behind her ear, and her pale throat, her ears still decorated with the earrings her lady-in-waiting had chosen for her earlier, seems to glare at Baekhyun, the earrings in his pocket like lead weights.

“Speaking of earrings,” he starts.

“Did you put any wards in Lord Chen’s bracelets?” Hyeran interrupts. “To protect him?”

Baekhyun blinks. “What?”

“It is only because he has never been caught by my father’s...um. Metal men? That I ask,” Hyeran explains. “I wondered if you…”

“No,” Baekhyun says. “To imbue a stone with a ward takes years of carefully carving the magic into the gem. Working too fast will ruin the ward, and it’s basically like working blind. I’ve only seen it successfully completed a few times.”

“Oh,” Hyeran says. “It’s very advanced then.”

“Yes,” Baekhyun tells her. “I don’t think I’ll ever do it. I don’t really have the patience.” He coughs. “Anyway, I have a gift for you.”

Hyeran blinks in surprise, but her interest, her curiosity, is obvious. That’s the push Baekhyun needs to stick his hand in his pocket and close his fingers over the earrings. He closes his eyes and hopes fervently that his mother wouldn’t disapprove of his decision.

“Wear these,” Baekhyun requests of Hyeran, pulling the earrings out into plain view, “at all times. They’ve been spelled with wards to keep your magical presence suppressed. It should be fucking impossible to find you or feel you using original magic with these on.” He holds the earrings out to her, letting them dangle from his fingers. The rubies catch the low torchlight in the room, and the faint scar of the wards written into them reflects on Hyeran’s skin.

“You wore these to climb the castle wall,” Hyeran says, voice a little breathy with recognition, bubbling on the edge of laugh. She reaches out. “I- where did you get them?”

“They were my mom’s.”

Hyeran stills, her fingertips a mere hair’s breadth away from touching the earrings. “Your mother’s?”

“My mom wrote the spells to these herself,” Baekhyun says, and even he can hear the pride in his family in his own voice. “I just put a little more power behind them too keep the wards up.” 

“You want to give these to me?” Hyeran presses. After a moment, Baekhyun finds it in himself to nod. The princess quiets and retracts her hand, shaking her head. “I can’t accept these. All the jewels in the treasury won’t mean even half as much in value as these do to you.” Any tension, any hesitation, Baekhyun had harbored towards parting with his mother’s earrings, gifting them to the princess and his student, disappears at Hyeran’s words. She doesn’t see these as simple gems or protective spells. She sees them as the legacy they are.

“You offered to give me jewels from the treasury,” Baekhyun reminds her. “Surely some of those are the queen’s?”

Hyeran bites her bottom lip. “It’s not the same,” she mumurs. “My mother is the queen. She’s not going to miss something she can just have remade. The value… it’s not…” She quiets, folding her hands in her lap.

“Take them,” Baekhyun insists. Hyeran still hesitates. “I’ve got to keep you safe somehow.” He offers the earrings to Hyeran again. “I want you to have them.”

Slowly, as if she’s giving Baekhyun time to change his mind, Hyeran reaches back out and Baekhyun lets the earrings float up from his hands, leaving space between them. She plucks them from the air and slips the diamonds and pearls Siyeon had selected for her out of her ears.

Baekhyun was right: the rubies are absolutely stunning against her skin, hanging against her throat and glowing with the faintest hint of blue magic.

“Are you sure you wish to part with these?” Hyeran asks, standing to tuck the diamonds and pearls into her jewelry box. The rubies dangle so prettily as she moves, and Baekhyun’s throat goes dry.

“Yeah,” he manages. “They look good.” _Real fuckin’ good._

Hyeran giggles her windchime laugh, looking over at him. “Yes, I think so too.” Her eyes curve with her smile. “Thank you.”

“Sure thing, princess,” Baekhyun says. He gets to his feet, clearing his throat. “I should get out of here. Get some food. Some sleep.”

“I can ring for the kitchen if you’re hungry-"

“Maybe next time, sweetheart,” Baekhyun cuts her off, heading over to his stuff. “Just think of what the queen would think seeing you feeding some exiled slum rat?” He grabs his cloak and throws it around his shoulders. It's nice of Hyeran to offer, but Baekhyun already feels so caught up in her that staying another minute seems a little suicidal. They could be caught at any moment.

“I care very little for my mother’s opinions,” Hyeran tells him. “When I was younger, I did, but now, to me, she’s… she’s…” She shakes her head. “Her only power comes from her marriage to my father. She’s happy to just live in the palace.”

“A caged bird,” Baekhyun offers. Hyeran nods, and Baekhyun is intrigued. Hyeran talks as if she doesn’t live in a cage, but maybe that’s the point of all of this - to escape the cage. But what for, is what Baekhyun doesn’t know. He wants to, but he won’t ask. Not yet.

“When should I expect you next?” Hyeran inquires, bright and excited. “Another week?”

“Not fuckin’ likely, princess,” Baekhyun says, and before Hyeran’s expression can turn truly crestfallen, he adds, “I told you I’ll teach you, and I’m going to fucking _get you learned._ ” Baekhyun gives her a mock dramatic bow and tips his imaginary hat. “See you tomorrow night, girlie.” He points at the books laid out around her and gives her one last order: “ _Read._ ”

He doesn't wait for a goodbye because he’ll be back here so soon, but he holds in his mind the image of Hyeran smiling and nodding, promising to read diligently. He hurries out the servants’ door and nearly trips on the toes of his own boots when his imagination drifts to Hyeran reading the books, her fingertips tracing the lines of magic circles that glow under the influence of the power she’s learning to cultivate.

*

“Breathe,” Baekhyun orders for the umpteenth time. “Fucking _breathe,_ princess!”

Hyeran exhales, maybe a little too harshly, but fire roars to life in her hands anyway, drawn together from the heat and light in the air around her. The magic circle underneath her spell spins around a flickering square, the four points glowing brighter as she focuses to keep the flame alive.

“That’s it,” Baekhyun encourages. He leans back, one leg extended and propped up on an elbow. He’s trying to look comfortable, at ease, if only for Hyeran’s sake. Hidden beneath a fold of his cloak, Baekhyun’s hand not supporting him is curled into a fist, ready to douse the fire with water should it spiral out of control. Original magic is immensely powerful, but if a user doesn’t learn to control the elements on their own, then her spells will never gain the subtlety that differentiates war magic from original magic. 

Hyeran inhales, and the fire in her palm shrinks. It grows again with her exhale.

“Feel that?” Baekhyun asks her. “How it works? If you stop breathing, energy stops flowing through you. And then what?” Hyeran keeps her eyes on the fire, and Baekhyun sighs. “And then fucking what?” he asks again.

“It dies!” Hyeran blurts out, voice shaking. The fire doesn’t waver, continuing to flicker merrily.

Baekhyun relaxes and laughs at her stunned face. “See?” he prompts. “No need to be so tense. You’re the one in control.” Hyeran doesn’t look entirely convinced. “The energy comes from within you and the material from around you,” Baekhyun reminds her.

“It’s not… easy,” Hyeran says, still watching the fire in her hands. She narrows her eyes at it, and the flames lighten, flickering yellow and blue. 

“It’s actually not as fucking hard as you make it out to be, princess,” Baekhyun teases. He plucks the fire from her hand, feels Hyeran’s magic spinning in it, the pulse of energy the same as the one he commands. It comforting and distracting, so he distracts himself by directing heat into the fire until it’s a pure white flame.

Hyeran’s narrowed eyes snap to Baekhyun. “I didn’t grow up learning magic before I could f-fu...fucking walk. Before I could walk.” Baekhyun’s lips twitch at the swear catching in her mouth before she works her tongue around it.

“Or cussing,” he adds just to see Hyeran’s nose wrinkle in frustration. “You’re too cute.”

“Whatever,” she says, a flush accompanying her words. She reaches out, hands shaped to take her fire back from Baekhyun. He lets her, moving his hands out of the way before they can accidentally make contact. 

“Cute and talented,” Baekhyun embellishes. “Only two weeks of lessons and you’re tossing magic around so easily.” He claps, letting sparks fly around his hands as he does, making tiny fireworks in Hyeran’s room. “A fucking natural,” he praises. “A perfect protege.”

“Yeah, right,” Hyeran says with a roll of her eyes. Even if she stutters through swearing, she’s picking up Baekhyun’s slum speak, making it sound almost elegant with her high-born accent.

“I’m fucking serious,” Baekhyun tells her. “Original magic isn’t something just anyone can learn. When Chen brought magic to humans, he saw how dangerous it could be and decided only those in his family could learn it.”

Hyeran hums. “It’s expanded since then,” she says. “Obviously.” She points at herself as an example. Baekhyun shifts to sit up and doesn’t respond. He’s not sure she’s ready to hear the truth about that, and he’s definitely not ready to say it.

“Did you finish reading those books yet?” he asks.

The fire in Hyeran’s hands dies. “I haven’t finished the one on dragons yet,” she admits, shoulders slumping. Her wide eyes seem to hold an apology. “The language in it… I can’t read parts of it.”

For a moment, Baekhyun feels like a fucking moron. Of course Hyeran was never taught to read dragon script characters. He’s not sure any living people beyond his father and himself know how to read it.

“I mean, it is quite fascinating,” Hyeran says. “What I can understand is amazing. But there’s just so much that I… I don’t even know what language it is written in.”

“I’ll teach you,” Baekhyun offers. “Go get that one.” Hyeran brightens and darts off towards her library to grab the book. When she returns, Baekhyun can see she’s managed to work a slight glamour onto it to keep the contents hidden.

Pride swells in his chest alongside something a little more dangerous, a little more pesky. He clears his throat and flicks his fingers. The book zooms from Hyeran’s hands and settles in his instead. 

“Do you have paper?” he asks. “And ink?” Hyeran fetches his requested objects, and settles down across from him again on the ground. Her bright eyes, curious and intelligent, focus on him, and Baekhyun wouldn’t mind staying in a moment like this for a long time, just him and the princess and magic.

“This is dragon script,” Baekhyun explains opening the book and pointing out the characters. “Each character matches a sound. And some important words, like magic, have their own characters. Like this…”

The night wears on, the torchlight kept bright by Baekhyun’s magic, as he sounds out dragon script for Hyeran to copy and translates the passages she can’t yet read for her. She listens until her eyes won’t stay open anymore, and Baekhyun bids her goodnight, putting away the book and all the notes they took in her small study.

“Show me one more time the character for magic,” Hyeran asks, and Baekhyun sounds out the word as he draws it in the air. He erases the character from the air before he leaves as if doing so can erase the ring of his own voice saying it out loud, of Hyeran echoing it back to him.

In dragon script, the character for magic and love are different, but in dragon speak, the sound is the same.

Baekhyun’s heart pounds.

*

The slums are dirty and stinking, but there’s a kind of comfort that comes with returning to see the filth during the light of day after spending his evenings with Hyeran, teaching her to weave spells with her fingers and to whisper curses into being. The palace is beautiful; the small bit of it that he’s seen is, anyway. But still, Baekhyun would rather be in his own home or slumming it with the street rats than becoming a domesticated palace cat. 

Baekhyun sighs, leaning back against a pile of crates outside one of the entries to Jongdae’s streets. The early morning light is cold, the winter wind streaming between the low buildings in the slums, and Baekhyun taps his fingers on his knees to watch the shadows move. Inside Jongdae’s network, it’s warm, most of the cold cut by tapestries and torches. Out here, Baekhyun keeps his hood up and wears his fur-lined cloak. Still, this type of cold cannot even begin to compare to the absolutely _frigid_ weather on the cliffs in winter.

It’s been weeks since Baekhyun has been to the cliffs to see his father, and he misses him. He almost misses the howl of the wind and the crack of lightning on the waves. Despite the cliffs practically being a fucking death sentence, that’s where Baekhyun was raised. He has callouses on his hands and feet to show for it; his father has his weathered skin and unbreakable back. 

As much as Baekhyun is worried about his father being alone for so long, the late autumn morning when he left to train Hyeran being the last time he’d been there, he can’t leave yet. His job isn’t done yet. Weeks of training nearly every night has advanced Hyeran’s skill quickly, and her desire to learn, to flourish, only adds to how much Baekhyun wants to keep teaching her.

The earrings are still stunning against her skin, and if Baekhyun could show Hyeran how to imbue the gemstones with magic herself, he wouldn’t have to worry everyday about her getting caught. That use of magic, wards, is too complicated for her yet, but give it another two years and Baekhyun is sure she’ll be setting wards with mere flicks of her fingers.

For now, however, Hyeran is still accidentally activating her powers whenever she gets too flustered, losing control of her breathing. Baekhyun grins at the memories; he takes full responsibility for each of them. It’s just way too fucking fun to bring out the inner slum rat in Hyeran, to tease her, to watch her blush.

If Baekhyun is honest with himself, he’s addicted to her attention on him, the look in her eyes when she looks at him. He’s addicted to the slight breathy quality to her voice when she tries something new and succeeds; he’s addicted to the glow of his family’s magic in her hands, sparks dancing along her cheekbones.

If Baekhyun is truly, really fucking honest with himself, addicted isn’t even the right word.

He’s in love with her. He’s so fucking in love with the fucking princess of the fucking kingdom from which he’s fucking exiled because of the fucking king who is her fucking father. But really, it’s not the princess who stole his attention, but the person Hyeran is without all the formality of her upbringing in court. That’s who Baekhyun has let himself fall for, and he’s so fucked.

Baekhyun knocks his head against one of the crates like it’s some sort of retribution for his heart going rogue on him. “Rat shit,” he whines. His breath plumes in the freezing air. “You fucked up, sorcerer's son. You really, really fucking fucked the fuck up.”

A slow clap follows Baekhyun’s words, and he rolls his eyes, not bothering to turn to see Jongdae standing there. The jangle of bracelets and the clack of rings that accompanied his clap was enough to give him away.

“I’m forever impressed at your aptitude for swearing,” Jongdae tells him, sarcastic but not unkind. The street lord plops down next to Baekhyun, and the crate he’s sitting on creaks in protest. Baekhyun taps his heel against it, and the crate’s groaning stops, the old wood piecing back together. “Nice trick,” Jongdae adds. He holds out his hands, silver sparks on dirty fingernails. “So tell me, newly native slum rat, what in the seven did you fuck up?”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “I’m not going to tell you,” he says.

“Aw, fuck, mate, come on! Show out!” Jongdae whines. “You’ve been in the city for… what? More than two months?” Baekhyun recounts and gives a slight nod. “You’re staying under my roof, exile. And it’s not like I’m not fucking thrilled to have you around, but I’m dying here.”

“Die then, fucker,” Baekhyun tells him pleasantly. Jongdae whines again, nudging Baekhyun with his elbow and zapping his side for good measure. “Shit!” Baekhyun jumps up, and slashes a hand down. The crate under Jongdae cracks and splinters, and Jongdae falls through it with a screech. Baekhyun feels like his tears from laughing might freeze on his face.

“Fuck you,” Jongdae growls, pushing himself out of the wreckage. “Why won’t you just give me a hint?” He’s pouting, and it’s really obnoxious. 

“That only works on Sunyoung,” Baekhyun reminds him, raising an eyebrow.

Jongdae wrinkles his nose. “You used to be fun, exile,” he says, but there’s no heat to it. Baekhyun just shrugs. There are things that are too delicate to place in the hands of a street lord, and no matter how much Baekhyun loves Jongdae, his level of trust in him doesn’t extend beyond his own life. He would never put Hyeran in danger like that.

He wants to protect her. That’s what loving someone is like, he figures.

“You’re not even here with me right now,” Jongdae complains. He expression turns scrutinizing, and he marches right up to Baekhyun and jabs a finger in his chest. “Who are you fucking?”

Sadly, no one.

“I’m not fucking anyone, Jongdae,” Baekhyun assures. He leans forward and wraps his arms around his friend’s neck. “You know you’re the only one for me, baby.”

Jongdae makes a kissy face at Baekhyun, and Baekhyun punches him in the mouth with his fist. Not hard enough to really hurt, but Jongdae stumbles back anyway.

“Since you won’t tell me what you’re going to be doing, I shouldn’t tell you either,” Jongdae mumbles through rubbing his jaw. He glares at Baekhyun.

“But you will,” Baekhyun encourages.

Jongdae’s lips curl into one of his more dangerous smiles. “Lady Luna and Lord Chen have been invited to visit an old friend. Apparently, the king is about to issue a very interesting decree.”

An old friend with palace connections can only mean one person: Minseok.

“How interesting?” Baekhyun asks, trying to sound like his whole body isn’t thrumming with the need to know.

“I don’t know yet,” Jongdae admits. “That’s all the message Xiumin sent us said.” But that’s all a message from Minseok needs to contain to draw the attention of Jongdae and Sunyoung, and Baekhyun, currently, is extremely interested in anything having to do with the palace.

“I’ll go,” he agrees.

“Fuckin’ knew you would, mate,” Jongdae says. He winks. He knows something, but Baekhyun isn’t going to ask what that is. Asking means opening the door to questions Baekhyun doesn’t want to answer. 

“You know me too well, Chen Chen.” Baekhyun adjusts his cloak over his shoulders. “When are we leaving?”

Jongdae grins. “I’ll go get Sunyoung and meet you at the tavern.” Baekhyun nods, and the two of them turn in opposite directions. Two slum rats traveling together isn’t odd, but two men and one woman, all of whom draw attention just because of who their fellow slum rats know them to be, traveling together is bound to cause a riot. And Minseok won’t allow a riot into his tavern. He’s meticulous with his identity, and he expects them to behave the same way.

Baekhyun takes his familiar route through the slums to the inner city, breathing quiet and magical presence nearly extinguished. He approaches the entrance to the tavern at the same time as two fellow hooded figures do. Sunyoung peers up at him from underneath the deep red of her cloak.

“Go first,” Baekhyun whispers to them and keeps walking, passing the tavern as if he hadn’t even seen it. He goes until the street ends, and then he loops back around, walking between two opposing merchant stalls and back across the street to Minseok’s shop. He ducks inside, shoving his hood back from his face.

Midday, the tavern isn’t loud and crowded, but it’s not dead either. There’s just enough noise to cover a private conversation held in public space. There’s just enough commotion to keep recognizable faces like Jongdae’s and Sunyoung’s out of focus. 

“Exile,” Hani greets him, and Baekhyun imagines he can already see the secrets Minseok wishes to share with Jongdae and Sunyoung in her dark eyes.

“Hani, darling,” he greets in response. 

“This way,” she says, taking his arm. She presses her chest against his arm, making him look like any other patron interested in her, and Baekhyun has to force himself not to jerk away. It’s not like Hyeran is here; it’s not like she would care enough to be jealous. Still, the problem with being well and truly fallen for someone is not wanting to upset even the memory of her.

“You look far away,” Hani whispers. “Where are you?”

 _The East tower,_ Baekhyun thinks, Hyeran’s fingers trailing magic through the air burned into his memory. He shakes his head and offers Hani no response. She used to keep secrets for pay as an assassin, but her connection to Minseok is a connection to Jongdae by extension. Baekhyun can keep his mouth shut; he’s kept his mouth shut for years about so many things, what’s one more?

“So you invited him?” Minseok says with the slightest sneer when Baekhyun comes up to his table.

Jongdae smirks, taking Sunyoung’s hand and lifting it to his lips. He kisses her knuckles and tugs gently on her arm. She gets to her feet and settles on Jongdae’s lap instead, an arm draped across his shoulders. The full table suddenly has one empty stool. To Minseok’s frown, Jongdae asks, “Did you expect any different?”

“No,” Minseok says. “But I hoped differently.”

“Hey,” Baekhyun interrupts, sitting down on Sunyoung’s recently vacated stool. “Fuck you too.”

Minseok rolls his eyes. “Seeing you once a year is enough for me, exile.” Baekhyun just winks at him.

“Pretend I’m not even fucking here,” Baekhyun says. “You know I won’t touch the grog.”

“Learn to shut your fucking mouth and I’ll consider you nonexistent,” Minseok retorts, and Baekhyun laughs, full-bodied, mouth open, just to watch the frustrated tension in Minseok’s shoulders. Beside him, even Jongdae is laughing, hand squeezing Sunyoung’s thigh to keep himself upright.

“Oh please, Xiumin,” Jongdae snorts, “don’t ask the fucking impossible.”

“I’ve seen the shit original magic can do,” Minseok says pointedly. Baekhyun winks again.

“Have we come to have a pissing contest or are we discussing the crowned buffoon?” Sunyoung cuts in, tapping her fingers on the table. She leans forward, arms crossed. “Because the former I will win, gentlemen, and the latter is what actually interests me.” She relaxes back against Jongdae, ignoring his lips against her neck.

“Oh, it is indeed worth the listen,” Hani says, sliding into Minseok’s lap. Her eyes are sharp on Sunyoung’s. “Suho really outdid himself getting this information.”

Sunyoung doesn’t waver from Hani’s stare. “He’s always been dragon-tongued,” she says. “That’s not particularly surprising.”

“But this is,” Minseok interrupts, tapping Hani’s waist. She draws, at his command, a small, rolled piece of parchment from her cleavage. The writing is messy, the scrawl nearly illegible, but the signature at the end is definitely Junmyeon’s alias. “The king is seeking the one artifact that living eyes have never seen.” His gaze feels like it’s piercing through Baekhyun’s skull, and he tightens the wards on his mind. “He’s offering a high reward for it.”

Jongdae scoffs. “None of us give two rat shits about his gold.”

“Gold is nothing compared to the position of prince consort,” Minseok reveals. Baekhyun’s heart pounds. He’s going to be sick.

“What?” his hisses. He can’t have heard that right.

“It seems the princess has come of age, and the king wishes to see her married to a suitable man,” Minseok explains. “Apparently, she’s the heir apparent too, if her husband is to be crown prince consort, and later, king consort.”

Baekhyun tries to be more subtle than he successfully is in filling an empty mug on the table with water he draws from the air. Jongdae’s raised eyebrow doesn’t escape his notice as he swallows back the taste of bile at the back of his throat.

Hyeran is to be fucking _wed._

Of course she is. She’s a _princess._ He would never get to even have a chance at her, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting. His fingers buzz with the phantom sensation of her magic joined with his as they pass it back and forth, back and forth. That’s the most of her he’s ever touched.

And ever will touch.

“What does the king want for such a prize?” Jongdae asks, the corner of his mouth still against Sunyoung’s neck. “I haven’t any interest, just curiosity.” Sunyoung’s expression doesn’t soothe, but she remains relaxed against Jongdae.

“The Word of Dragons,” Minseok answers. “The stone where Chen - the _real_ Chen - hid the secrets of original magic.” He grins. “Rumor has it that the stone is up in the mountains, in the dragon graveyard.” He leans forward and lowers his voice. “A confirmed rumor says that anyone who the king himself has sent, his best knights, those he wishes to tie his daughter to, haven’t returned.”

“Dead metal men,” Jongdae snorts. “If he wanted those, he could have just sent them to us.” His and Sunyoung’s smirks match, focus equally deadly.

Minseok waves a dismissive hand. “All who have gone are magic users,” he continues. “This suddenly seems to be an impossible task.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, and Hani doesn’t miss it, her gaze focused on him. Baekhyun taps one finger on the table, a warning for Hani to not draw attention to him. She purposefully relaxes against Minseok, leaving Baekhyun undisturbed, Minseok continuing to ignore him as he and Jongdae talk.

 _Rat shit idiots,_ Baekhyun thinks about the dead knights and the weak, colored lightning they wield. No one can take on such a quest with that kind of strength. Every person who goes will end up burned and forgotten in the mountains; that much, Baekhyun knows for sure.

“-have no desire to be prince consort,” Jongdae is saying, his grip on Sunyoung unyielding. “However, if there is anything else the king might offer instead of his daughter, I could be persuaded to take this quest on.”

Baekhyun clenches his jaw.

“No,” Minseok replies. “As far as Han and Junmyeon have heard, it’s the stone for the princess. No other options in place.”

“And why the fuck would there be?” Baekhyun grumbles. “Why in the seven would anyone want a different prize when marrying royalty is on the table?”

“For the honor, maybe?” Sunyoung suggests. Her nails scratch lightly against the back of Jongdae’s neck. “Not that that applies to any of us.” She shrugs. “Maybe some self-righteous knight succeeds and doesn’t want the princess because he’s much more interested in princes.”

“There aren’t any princes,” Baekhyun states. 

“It was hypothetical, rat shit,” Sunyoung sneers at him. Baekhyun sticks his tongue out at her.

“Weren’t you going to be silent?” Minseok sniffs, staring down his nose at Baekhyun. Baekhyun isn’t even phased by his glare or the magic he can feel prodding at the wards around his mind. He doesn’t need Minseok to know what he’s thinking: the only prince this generation of royalty will see is a prince consort, and _fuck_ that. He doesn’t want to be prince consort for a kingdom that ruined his family, but he doesn’t want Hyeran to have anyone but him.

Hyeran is the princess, however, the heir apparent. The one prize Baekhyun could never have even if he took on the quest himself.

He would succeed too. The Word of Dragons and its location is a family secret, passed from generation to generation along with original magic. It would be so easy for him to just go and return with it, present the stone to Hyeran and hand her her freedom from her father’s decree. 

Baekhyun sighs, a gruff sound of thinly veiled anger, rolling his shoulders back and pushing himself up from the table.

“Maybe if your news was more entertaining I would have held my tongue,” Baekhyun spits. Something dark and dangerous curls in his stomach, and he doesn’t want to sit here and listen to his own jealousy whispering in his ears and clawing through his chest. It’s not that what Minseok had to say wasn’t good intelligence, wasn’t fun gossip. It’s just that Baekhyun himself isn’t amused; he’s angry. He’s angry with Hyeran for not telling him the real reason she wanted to learn original magic. He’s angry with himself for not forcing her to tell him. He’s angry with Hyeran for using him like a fool. He’s angry at himself for allowing himself to be used, to fall for her and feel jealous of anyone else who could potentially have her. “I’ll leave first.”

He sweeps out of the tavern, drawing his hood up over his head. As he leaves, he just catches Hani’s soft voice murmuring to Minseok.

“He knows something.”

She’s fucking right. Baekhyun does know something. He knows a fucking lot. He knows all the answers to the questions Minseok wants to ask. It’s what he doesn’t know that is killing him now, is why he’s leaving, jealousy and a taste of fury lending to his urgency. His feet carry him in the direction of the palace.

What Baekhyun _does_ know is exactly just how badly he’s fucked up for the princess.

*

Baekhyun sprints through the sewers, ignoring the stench and the filth. He leaves his drenched cloak hanging from one of the sconces deep in the bowels of the castle and cleans his boots with a flick of his fingers. It’s practically engraved in the memory of his body how to get to the princess’ rooms, and he doesn’t bother to hide his magical presence, hoping the wards he’s drawn along this route will keep him safe.

He flings out a hand, and the servant entrance doors fly open, slamming back against the walls as Baekhyun storms into Hyeran’s room, ready to demand answers, to demand the truth from her.

Hyeran’s not there, and Baekhyun isn’t sure why he actually expected her to be. There’s still light outside. She’s probably at dinner, at court, at somewhere in the palace discussing her potential suitors, dressed in a beautiful gown that highlights her beauty just as much as it hides the fiery spirit trapped in her corset. 

Baekhyun snarls into the empty room, flicking his wrist angrily. The servants’ doors slam shut, and Baekhyun paces, his magic thrumming through his veins too hot for him to sit still. He runs his fingers over everything he passes: the silk of Hyeran’s bedding, the binding of the books in her study. He pours over her notes on dragon script and breathes in her energy filling the room. 

This, all of this, is going to go to fucking waste the moment her life is tied to another man that isn’t him, a man who won’t understand her desires to study the way of original magic, who won’t support her being anything more than the perfect queen to fill her father’s ideals. 

Baekhyun shakes his head, running his hands through his hair and wishing he could scream his frustrations into the quiet of the study. If only Hyeran had told him why she was so adamant to learn magic, why it had to be original magic. If she had told him, he could have already gone and come back with the Word of Dragons. Her father’s pending announcement will be the end of her freedom; he could have given her a way to stop it. If only she had said something. If only she had just fucking said _something_ this would never have had to happen.

If only…

If only Baekhyun could have kept his heart still, this wouldn’t feel so much like a betrayal.

“Fuck,” he spits. “Fucking bloodydamn rat shit.”

This type of anger, this hurt, energizes and exhausts him at the same time, and he collapses on the rug where he and Hyeran always sit during lessons, books, paper, and magic spread between them. Even though no more than an arm’s span separates them, it’s during those times that Baekhyun has always felt so close to her. Now, he feels the distance; now, he feels how much he’s been fooling himself.

Right now, he’s exhausted by the rampant jealousy that he wishes he didn’t feel.

The door to Hyeran’s room from the main hall cracks open, and her voice floats through. “No, Siyeon, I don’t need assistance.” The door clicks shut with a little more force than necessary, and Hyeran’s sigh sounds so frustrated and so, so sad. Baekhyun grits his teeth and wills his chest not to ache.

“I can’t do this,” Hyeran whispers, and the burning anger in her tone seems to freeze Baekhyun’s own. He is suddenly very acutely aware that she hasn’t noticed him and so very aware that for all the anger he feels at her for not telling him, at himself for falling for her, she has more right than him to feel fury.

It’s not her choice to be wed. It’s not her who chose to be betrothed to some metal man war magic user. 

Baekhyun’s nails dig crescents into his palms, the slight pain of it distracting him from his own frustrations. Attacking Hyeran for questions right now isn’t going to make her tell him; it will only scare her away.

 _Be calm,_ he encourages himself. So as not to draw Hyeran’s attention, Baekhyun carefully gathers the light around himself, hiding his image from her. If he acts like there’s nothing wrong, like this is just a normal lesson, then maybe, fucking _maybe_ , he can get the answers he seeks from her.

“I really can’t… I can’t do this,” Hyeran mutters, her voice caught between defeated crying and angered screaming. The pink gossamer cloak around her shoulders falls to the ground as she walks towards her vanity, pulling pins from her hair and a simple chain from around her neck. The deep navy of her gown is so dark it’s almost black, making her look like she might be in mourning.

“Mother won’t speak for me,” Hyeran spits. “Just lets him do as he pleases like we’re mannequins.”

The angry tears on her face give the same impression, and she wipes them and the make up from her face with jerky swipes of magic. She grabs the front of her dress, and the fabric tears under her touch, layers of velvet falling to the ground. She rips open her corset, panting hard in her thin chemise and ruby earrings.

Baekhyun holds his breath and averts his gaze. He shouldn’t be here right now. He shouldn’t be seeing this. This is private, and for all they’ve shared, for all Baekhyun wishes they were, they’re not anything more than a formal arrangement to teach and learn original magic.

He’s jealous of those knights even though she, _Hyeran_ , isn’t his and never will be no matter how much he wishes. He’s angry at her father for using her like this, and he’s disappointed in her mother for not protecting her daughter.

Hyeran grabs her dressing gown and pulls it around herself, tying it sloppily as she turns to glare at her vanity again.

“I’m not a chest of treasures, Father,” she spits at her reflection. “You cannot use me like this.”

But this isn’t a new thing, Baekhyun thinks. She’s known about this, and maybe this is why, the sun setting in the west and plunging the world into darkness, she insists he never come before dusk ends. This is her time to compose herself, to settle into a calm, bubbly aura so that Baekhyun would never suspect that inside she’s just as angry as he’s become.

She’s so much more dragon tongued than he would have ever guessed- a woman familiar with the ways of court and the ways of deception.

Hyeran stands and turns. If Baekhyun weren’t hiding under an illusion, she would be staring right at him. As it is, even with the magic covering him, he feels like her piercing gaze holds him in perfect focus. 

The princess takes a deep breath, and the dying torches around her room come to life, revived, the flames dancing merrily. The shift in the light is too quick for Baekhyun, distracted and lost in thought, to keep up his illusion, and Hyeran’s startled gasps tells him she’s found him.

“You were here?” she asks, sounding small. She clears her throat ad straightens her back. “You do not usually come so early,” she tries again. “I wasn’t expecting-”

“I should fucking hope you weren’t,” Baekhyun interrupts, forcing himself to speak as crassly and brashly as he usually does. The words don’t quite have that joking element he normally uses with her, coming out harsh. He flexes his hands, trying to just breathe. “Or have you just been dying for a chance to rip your clothes off for me?” He winks, but he can’t quite get his mouth to cooperate and smirk at her, the corners of his lips pulled too deeply into a frown.

“When did you arrive?” Hyeran asks, stiff still. “Before me?”

Baekhyun leans back, propping himself up on his hands. The usually comfortable pose feels rigid and fake. There’s nothing comfortable in the barely contained frustration making his heart beat too fast. “Yeah, sweetheart. I thought tonight would be a good night for a long lesson. Came early. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Hyeran assures even though Baekhyun is convinced she would rather crawl into her bed and forget all about today. He’s not even sure his coming here was a good idea. “I could use the distraction.” 

“Keep taking your clothes off in front of me, and I have a completely different type of distraction for you,” Baekhyun offers, trying to leer but getting caught on the mental image of a faceless man undressing Hyeran, his hands not nearly as nimble, his magic ugly and destructive. He should have just not shown out tonight, left the kingdom to let his magic run wild on the cliffs, exhausting himself of his anger and jealousy.

Hyeran raises one entirely unamused eyebrow. “I’m not really in the mood for your jokes, Baekhyun,” she says. “You should know that if you saw me when I came in.” He does know. He’s not likely to forget her tears any time soon, the angry flush of her skin, the silhouette of her body through the chemise.

“What do you want to focus on then?” Baekhyun asks, speaking too quickly to get away from any topic that won’t keep his blood boiling, his stomach sick with a want that can never be fulfilled. “Dragons? Alchemy? Wards?”

Hyeran moves to sit in front of him, and the usual space between them seems to be twice as wide, the gap filled with mutual madness. The princess doesn’t think twice before answering him.

“Dragon speak,” she requests. Baekhyun isn’t even marginally surprised she would choose the most difficult subject if she’s so desperate for a distraction, but knowing what’s on the line, the Word of Dragons, he’s not sure her motive for asking is distraction at all. He can’t deny her though; it’s a weakness he should never have let himself have. He swallows back the anger crawling up his throat and the licks away desperate need to demand the truth from her scraping at the back of his teeth. He nods.

“Summon your materials.”

Hyeran’s hands are so beautiful when they spin magic into existence and her fingers flick to command it. Her skill would be wasted on war magic. Her skill would be fucking _wasted_ on any man who succeeds at the king’s quest. Hyeran herself is worth more than any man winning a challenge could hope to pay.

She’s priceless.

The thought only makes Baekhyun remember his unjust jealousy and anger. His nails settle back into the bloody crescents he’d made in his palms.

Hyeran’s notes and Baekhyun’s book fly on folded wings from Hyeran’s study, coming to settle and unfurl between them on the ground. A whisper from Hyeran’s lips brings ink into existence, but she doesn’t call brushes forth. Subtle hand movements make far clearer writing than a brush ever could, and dragon script was never intended to be copied by human hand strokes.

“I saw this page,” Hyeran begins, voice flat and forceful instead of her usual open curiosity. With a faint wave of her hand, the book on dragons, their history and language, flips open to a section near the third quarter of the book. “It appears to be some sort of rites?”

Baekhyun lifts the book from the ground, spinning it around so that he can see it clearly. “You’re right,” he tells her. He knows these rites. These are the reason every man who has gone to attempt to retrieve the Word of Dragons has died. A sadistic sort of pleasure rears its head in Baekhyun’s mind at that fact. He sets the book back down for her to see. “So, dragons were fucking huge, you know? Creatures fucking teaming with magic. So when a dragon died, they could either just, you know, die like normal, and their magical presence would die too, releasing their power back into the earth around them. Sometimes they would capture bits of their magic in gems to be given to their families.”

“So original magic being passed down from generation to generation…” Hyeran murmurs, reaching out to flip forward in the book to the very end where Chen is introduced, his adherence to dragon culture emphasized.

“Yeah,” Baekhyun confirms. “That’s why we think of dragons and think of hoarding. They just don’t want to throw away remnants of their ancestors.” His need to know what Hyeran is thinking and planning is his own form of possessiveness. His anger that someone else could touch what he wishes were his to touch goes back centuries to the origin of the magic he wields.

“That’s...that’s really...amazing,” Hyeran murmurs. She turns the pages back. “But what’s the other option? If not death...”

“Dragons protected their secrets with their lives,” Baekhyun prefaces. “The Word of Dragons - the stone where Chen inscribed the secrets of-”

“I know it,” Hyeran interrupts. Right. Of course she does. That’s what started Baekhyun’s anger in the first place. The princess’ freedom is to be traded for a precious artifact that Baekhyun’s known of and revered since his father first introduced original magic to him. Baekhyun lifts an eyebrow in question before his eyebrows can slant down in his disgust. “I’ve read about it,” Hyeran tries to cover, “in this book, actually.” And while that’s probably true, he knows she knew about the stone well before she read this.

“Dragons wanted to protect the families they left behind too, and especially the dragonborns. Like Chen. They treasured them. Dragons treasured the dragonborns. Some of the dragons would choose to seal their spirit outside of their body, so that they could continue living beyond the boundaries of blood and heart beats.” Baekhyun points back at the text. “These rites were the questions asked and answered before a dragon could seal his spirit.”

“To protect dragonborns?”

Baekhyun taps his fingers on his knee. “Yeah. To protect dragonborns. To protect their still living families. To protect their _secrets._ ”

Hyeran wrinkles her nose and doesn’t react to Baekhyun’s choice of emphasis. It pisses him the fuck off. “So they became ghosts?” she asks.

“That’s… sure. Something like that, yeah.”

The princess hums. “Are they still around?” Baekhyun’s lips twist in a sardonic grin. 

“Fuck yeah they are,” he states. If they weren’t, one of those metal men would have succeeded by now. Hyeran may already be set to be married to a man with a new title. “Unless their source of energy dies, they won’t,” he explains. “And their source of energy… it won't die. It’s the closest thing to immortality that magic can achieve. But that’s dragon magic. Original magic is… close, but it won’t ever be quite as strong as dragon magic.”

“What’s their source of energy?” Hyeran inquires.

“The belly of the earth,” Baekhyun answers. “Fire.” He barks out a laugh that sounds just as mean as the jealousy in his chest is. “They fucking _breathe fire,_ sweetheart. Why the fuck do you think that is?”

Hyeran taps her lip as she waves her other hand over a blank piece of parchment, ink following behind and drying on the page when she commands. The flow of magic is flawless, elegant. If she weren’t royalty, if she weren’t the princess, maybe these lessons would mean something else, something that would appease Baekhyun’s jealousy.

“The dragonborn were a human tribe who lived with the dragons,” Baekhyun tells her, distracting himself from could haves and should haves, watching Hyeran’s notes trail into a question after the word ‘dragonborn.’ She glances up at him, and he gestures at her notes. “You wanted to know,” he says. “They weren’t really born of dragons, but they did worship the dragons, injecting themselves with dragon blood.” He shrugs. “Chen was able to translate dragon magic into original magic because of his dragon blood.”

“Dragons just gave up blood?”

“Yeah. Possessive fucks, remember?” Baekhyun taps his fingertips to Hyeran’s page of notes, removing a line of misinformation. She blinks at him. “Dragons wanted to protect their worshippers. Dragon blood made the dragonborn tribes stronger. That’s protection in and of itself. Gave them abilities that human magics can’t accomplish. That’s why Chen’s descendants kept the magic in the family instead of spreading it. It’s fucking insane, what dragonblooded dragonborns can do.”

“Can do?” Hyeran looks up, eyes focused. “Aren’t they all dead now?”

Baekhyun forces himself to laugh, brushing off his own slip of the tongue. “Dragons managed to keep their spirits alive for centuries,” he says. “Who knows what the dragonborn could do.”

Hyeran doesn’t press, seemingly accepting his answer as she looks back at her notes. “That’s probably another reason my father hates original magic,” she says bitterly. “Knowing him, he thinks original magic users are part dragon.” Baekhyun doesn’t say anything, watching Hyeran pull undried ink from the page and return it to the well with a simple flourish. “So… I’ll never be as good with original magic as Chen’s descendents, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be dangerous in my own right.” 

“You’re already fucking dangerous, princess,” Baekhyun mutters. 

Hyeran narrows her eyes. “What does that mean?” she demands. Baekhyun shakes his head, and Hyeran sighs, giving in to his silence. She points instead to the first character of the first question of the page on rites. “What is this character?” she asks.

Baekhyun reads it out loud to her. “Here it means ‘why.’”

“So all of these questions begins with ‘why?’” Hyeran asks.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but no,” Baekhyun begins. He holds a hand over the page, making the one character they’re discussing glow. “In the second question, it means ‘what.’ In the third, it means ‘why’ again, and in the fourth, ‘how.’”

“I don’t understand.”

Baekhyun thinks for a moment. It’s something he learned so long ago, he no longer has to think about the character and its translation. “In our language,” he starts, “we have who, what, when, where, why, how. Question words. In the dragon language, they just have the same word for all of those.”

“But then…” The princess pauses in copying the character to her notes. “How do you tell them apart?”

“Context?” Baekhyun guesses. “You just get used to it eventually.”

“Show me,” Hyeran requests.

“Right, okay, so.” Baekhyun lifts his hand and lifts the ink from the well, writing simultaneously in dragon script and their own alphabet. His thoughts, his need to know, flow with the ink, and the words settle on the page before he fully comprehends how thin the ice he’s stepping onto is. He layers the question character under the words ‘what’ and ‘how’ and ‘why.’ In dragon speak, he says, “ _How could you lie to me?_ ” at the same time as he writes it in human language. Hyeran stills, but Baekhyun keeps going, already too far in, his need to know, his anger and jealousy bubbling out into the ink.

“ _What are you keeping from me?_ ” he continues. Hyeran sits up straighter, her eyes a little wide.

“Baekhyun…” she starts in warning.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Baekhyun whispers in a low demand so she can understand, writing the words on the page without moving his gaze from her face. She stares right back, her frown trembling and his set with frustration. “Three questions all with the same word,” Baekhyun finishes. “But the answers are really more important anyway.”

“This isn’t the lesson anymore,” Hyeran states, getting to her feet.

“No,” Baekhyun agrees.

“I thought we agreed we could keep our own secrets,” Hyeran says, her own anger creeping into her voice. It’s what breaks the dam Baekhyun had only barely managed to construct in himself, his hurt bursting forth and spilling out of his mouth.

“Did we agree that?” Baekhyun asks, pushing himself up to stand. “Or did you fucking decide that on your own, princess?”

“I-” Hyeran bites her lip. She snaps back at him, “I don’t owe you anything. If I don’t want to explain myself, then I don’t have to.”

“I think you do,” Baekhyun retorts. “I came here to kill your father.” Hyeran flinches. Baekhyun presses on. “Don’t pretend you don’t know that. And you _still_ insisted on me teaching you magic instead, and I agreed even though it’s something I’m not supposed to teach anyone I’m not inviting into my family. But you-”

“What does your family have to do with anything?”

Baekhyun reels back. “Nothing.”

Hyeran’s frown is deep, her magic furious. “That’s a lie,” she accuses. “A _fucking_ lie.”

“It doesn’t fucking matter,” Baekhyun retorts. “What matters is that you knew!”

“That I knew?” Hyeran demands. She rolls her eyes, crosses her arms. Her fingers tap in agitation against her upper arms. “Of course I knew what my father was planning! I’m the princess! Of course I know! What I don’t understand is how you know.” She points an accusing finger at him. “Answer me!”

“Why would I answer you when you won’t tell me anything either?” Baekhyun snaps.

“Fine!” Hyeran spins around and marches to her vanity, snatching up a folded piece of parchment. She waves it at Baekhyun, and the parchment catches on fire, burning in her hand. “My father told me last year that on my nineteenth birthday he would announce me as a prize for whoever could bring him back the Word of Dragons.” She strides to the window, throwing it open and tossing the burned draft of the decree away. Cold winter air spirals into the room, carrying bits of ash and snow with it. 

“It’s already winter. On the third day of the year, my father will make his decree, and I’ll be watched day and night, kept like a prized horse.” She scoffs, rude and loud. “The only reason he waited until my nineteenth birthday is because he sent knights to gather dragon bones in the southern wastelands during my eighteenth.” She spins back around, facing Baekhyun. “I’m not some prize to be won!”

“And so you decided to stop me from killing your father so that you could instead make me train you in my magic for a rat shit suicidal quest.”

“That's why I needed you to train me! So it wouldn't be suicide!” Hyeran counters. Sparks fly around her with her words, putting pressure on Baekhyun’s wards.

He scoffs. Her ability with original magic is great, but her lack of knowledge about its dragon origins is showing here. Her understanding the subject they had been discussing mere moments before is nearly fuck-all nonexistent. “You'd be better off going without having learned a fuckin’ thing,” he mutters.

Hyeran catches it. Of course she does. “What in the seven does that mean?”

“It means you fucked up, princess,” Baekhyun yells in an angry whisper. “Fuck. I mean, fuck you, really. I could have gone and come back with the stupid stone already if you'd just told me for fucking what rat shit reason you needed to learn magic! You could have paid me in your shitty jewelry, maybe some new boots, but fucking _no_. You had to be real, fucking difficult, didn't you? Shit.”

“Why?” Hyeran yells back at him. “So you could marry me instead?” She laughs at him, the sound mocking and cruel, digging into Baekhyun’s chest like a dagger. “You would be killed the moment you showed your face to my father!” She storms to her vanity, throwing open one of the jewelry box lids and lifting a handful of necklaces. “You want jewels? Here then.” She throws them at him.

Baekhyun barely finches, catching every piece with magic as she throws handfuls of gems worth more than Baekhyun’s life at his face. They float in the air between them, wavering softly with Baekhyun’s breathing.

“I don’t want to fucking marry you,” Baekhyun snaps. “I don’t want to win you like some rat shit prize or lose my head because I dared show my fucking face to ask for you!”

Hyeran stumbles, eyes flitting from the jewelry to Baekhyun. “Well, good!” she says. “Good because…because…” She shakes her head, ruby earrings swinging.

“I would have done it so you could escape this rat shit,” Baekhyun tells her, taking a loud step forward. The jewelry brushes his shoulders as he walks through it, coming in close to the princess but never touching, never even letting himself give into the temptation. “So you wouldn’t be forced to marry whoever has the biggest dick. So you wouldn’t fucking be regarded as an object when you’re the heir apparent. So you wouldn’t have to stop studying magic. So you wouldn’t have to be-” _away from magic. Away from me. Married to someone else._ Baekhyun doesn’t say any of that; he can’t. He holds his breath. “I could have freed you, princess.”

Hyeran fumes. “I don’t want to be _freed_ ,” she seethes. “Not by someone else. Definitely not some slum rat. I just needed the ability to do it myself.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m not ungrateful.”

“I find that real fucking hard to believe when you’re calling me a fucking slum rat.”

Hyeran sighs. Her magic reaches out, taking over the jewelry in the air carefully to return it to its box. “I am grateful,” she assures diplomatically. “None of my father’s knights know original magic, so none of them are going to succeed in this quest. That’s why I needed to know it, so that I can succeed on my own and be my own queen. I don’t want to take the throne with a consort already by my side. I want…” She bites her bottom lip.

“You want to have a fucking love story,” Baekhyun finishes for her. _Me too,_ he thinks. He definitely wants to be the other half of her love story, but that’s not in the stars or planned anywhere in the seven. 

Hyeran blushes, her face more red than pink when mixed with her earlier anger. “There’s nothing wrong with that,” she sniffs.

Baekhyun just shrugs. “So you’re going to keep watching these metal men die trying to win your hand, and then what? You’ll fucking traipse up to the dragon territories and walk back a free princess?”

“No,” Hyeran denies, voice strong and sure. “No, I’m not going to wait for my father to announce his decree. I’m leaving in two nights.”

_What._

“What the fuck?” Baekhyun demands, voice loud again. “The fuck you’re leaving in two nights! No you’re fucking not!”

Hyeran recoils. “You can’t tell me what I can or cannot do, exile!” She points at him. “You are not my father, my husband, my _anything._ You do not make decisions for me.” She will never know how much that hurts him, hearing out loud exactly how little he is in relation to her. His stomach feels much like it did when he dove over escaped energy when he was first teaching her to use original magic: punched.

“What about the queen?” Baekhyun tries, a desperate but futile attempt. “Why don’t you appeal to your mother, and then-”

“My mother is useless,” Hyeran interjects. “You know that. I’ve told you. She won’t plead for me, and my father wouldn’t listen even if she did. I’m left with no choice but to go now.” She steps in close to Baekhyun as she speaks, staring at him with nothing but determined fury in her gaze.

“I’m going,” she repeats. “This is not up for discussion.” Baekhyun stares back at her, holding her gaze, pressing against her magical presence with his own. Even if he tries to set ways to keep her in the palace, she’ll just hurt herself trying to get out. At least if he goes with her, delays her, she’ll be safe. 

“Fine,” he concedes. “Take this as a word of advice then: it’s winter. The trip up to the graveyard is dangerous enough without ice and snow. Just wait until sprin-”

“You know where it is,” Hyeran interrupts. “You know _exactly_ where the Word of Dragons is.”

Baekhyun blinks. “I-”

“Don’t even try to deny it,” Hyeran continues. “No one knows where the stone is, but you said the graveyard right away.”

“That’s…” Baekhyun swallows. “That’s just the rumor, sweetheart. Just a fucking rumor.”

“No, you know,” Hyeran says, adamant. “You said it with absolute certainty. You know.” Her eyes go wide, the corners of her mouth starting to turn up instead of down. She’s nearly breathless when she speaks next. “You could take me.”

“No, I fucking can’t,” Baekhyun rejects her immediately, taking a step back. “We’ll be caught long before we get there, and then you’ll be locked in here. And me? Beheaded. Fucking _dead_ , princess. Just let me get it for you-”

“That will not work, exile, and you know that too,” Hyeran counters. “If I’m not the one to retrieve it, then my father will continue to see me in the exact same light. Weak.” She glares. “I’m not weak.”

Baekhyun sighs, his shoulders slumping. “Listen, princess,” he begins. “Just trust me on this, yeah? Those metal men that go? They’re all going to die. Every single one of them.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But I fucking do,” Baekhyun assures. “I know that mountain. That’s where my magic comes from. Where it was fucking born. The dragon that sealed their spirits? They’re still there. That, right fucking there, is why all of them will end up dead. Do you really think dragons, famed for being fucking possessive, will let anyone walk away with the secrets to their magic? The last piece of their most beloved dragonborn? Do you really think that?”

Hyeran pauses. “I didn’t…” She thinks for a moment, hides a small cough behind a hand. “I didn’t know,” she admits.

“That’s right,” Baekhyun tells her. “You didn’t. And there’s a lot you don’t. Have you ever traveled outside the palace?”

“Yes!” Hyeran blurts.

“Outside the kingdom walls?” Baekhyun presses. “No guards? No supplies beyond what you can carry in a bag?”

Hyeran fidgets, and Baekhyun waits. She mouths more than she speaks, “No.” That’s all Baekhyun needed to confirm.

“Girlie, you have no idea what it’s like out there. You’ll be dead before you even reach the mountains.” Hyeran opens her mouth to protest, but Baekhyun doesn’t give her the chance. “You don’t know how to survive. You were raised in fucking _luxury,_ princess. I don’t say it to fuck with you- you’re going to die if you go out to the graveyard right now.”

“Maybe I prefer that to what awaits me here,” Hyeran argues, stubborn. Baekhyun feels as though his heart was just flung from the cliffs where he was raised.

“Don't even fucking joke like that,” he whispers, voice low and nearly lost. He remembers helping his father carefully lower his mother's body over the cliffs and to a watery grave below.

He lost the first woman who meant something to him; he can't bear to lose the second.

Hyeran’s pout is apologetic, but she still holds Baekhyun in a state of fierce resolve.

“Shit, okay,” Baekhyun concedes. “I'll take you. Fuck me, I'll take you.”

“Really?” Hyeran asks, slightly disbelieving, slightly breathless with excitement.

“Yes,” Baekhyun confirms. “In spring.”

Hyeran sours immediately, stamping her foot and crossing her arms. “I’m not waiting that long!” she shouts. “Don’t you get it, exile?”

"Fucking yeah, I fucking get it," Baekhyun snarls. He understands that she’s ready to risk her life to not lose it to the power of some man by her father’s decree. But she doesn't understand that she _will_ die. “It’s _you_ who doesn’t fucking get it!” Baekhyun counters, finger pointed, magic flaring. “If you travel out there now, you who has never fucking been anywhere without guards and shelter and guaran-fucking-teed security, you’ll shiver right out of your skin. You don’t have the right bloodydamn supplies or anythin’ you need to even fucking _get_ there. And what will you do once you’re there _if_ you make it that far, huh? Climb a random slope and fucking pray you picked the right bloodydamn one?”

“That’s why you should go with me,” Hyeran tries, taking a step towards Baekhyun. She reaches for him, her hand for his arm, and Baekhyun jerks back. If Hyeran is offended, she doesn’t show it.

“I fuckin’ _don’t_ -”

“Please, Baekhyun!” Hyeran cracks, begging finally. Her eyes soften from a glare to blinking back desperate tears, and Baekhyun is frozen as he watches her, trying to ignore how easily his heart breaks at the sight of her asking for his help, his knowledge, his company. “Please. I cannot… I cannot let my father marry me off just so he can control me. My mother already lets him have his way, and I... I cannot just allow myself to be his doll.” She looks so small, even as she holds out her hands to show the blue sparks of original magic. 

That’s Baekhyun’s magic on her hands, and it appeals to him far more than her words.

“If I wait for him to make his decree, I’ll be kept under watch. There will not be another chance for me to win my freedom from this. If I’m going to do this, now is the only time I have. I don’t have the luxury of time. Spring will be too late.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “ _Please_.” The magic grows with her breath, and she looks up at him, eyes imploring, cheekbones accentuated by the magic around her that calls to Baekhyun’s own magical presence.

“Or tell me you want me to forget I ever learned how to do this, and I’ll let it go,” she promises. “I’ll step willingly into that cage.”

Baekhyun doesn’t fucking believe her for a second. Her words, her false promise, relies so heavily on Baekhyun’s opinion, makes him feel important and wanted and not as all like the nothing she claimed him to be earlier.

“Dragon tongue,” he accuses.

Hyeran’s eyebrows slant down. “What?” she asks.

“Slum speak,” Baekhyun explains. “It means you’re lying, and it means your words are awfully fucking clever.” 

Her answering grin is sly. “How can you expect me to give this up?” she questions him, and Baekhyun truly could never expect her to. Her hands are too beautiful when she works magic between her fingers, and he’s too proud of what she’s learned to let her even consider giving it up. The princess may not know how to survive winter outside the kingdom, but Baekhyun does. Baekhyun grew up fighting to survive in the barren cliffs. He could keep her safe, and he would never forgive himself if anything happened to her.

Baekhyun sighs at himself. He’s already lost.

“Give me three days,” he decides. “We’re going to need food and horses. Warm clothes.” Hyeran’s face lights up, but it’s not with her magic this time. Her excitement, her pleasure at his decision, makes her _glow,_ and she’s both spoiled and stunning. “I have to go meet with someone before we can leave, and I need to rest. You need to rest.”

Hyeran claps her hands together. “You’ll take me?”

Baekhyun nods, lips pursed.

“Really?” Hyeran presses. “Sincerely?”

“I’m rat shit for agreeing, but yeah,” Baekhyun commits. “Yes. In three nights. When I get here, you better be ready to leave, or I’m changing my bloodydamn mind.”

“Thank you,” Hyeran whispers, and she’s leaning towards him again, hands uncertain and held awkwardly away from her body as if she’s unsure if she can touch him or not.

Baekhyun makes the decision for her, stepping back fast and angling himself towards the servants’ door. “Yeah, you won’t be saying that once you’re out in the wind.” He clears his throat. “Three days,” he reminds her. “Don’t even bother to think about magic. Just rest. You hear me, princess?”

“I hear you,” Hyeran says, but her excitement clearly overlays the severity of what she’s asking Baekhyun to lead her to do. She hears him, yes, but Baekhyun isn’t sure she really understands. She will though. She will as soon as she tastes the cold air and is forced to eat salted jerky.

Freedom never comes free; even a princess should know that.

“And one more thing.” Hyeran looks at him with bright, expectant eyes. “Don’t bring your earrings.”

Hyeran’s face falls. “But the guards could catch-!”

“We’ll be gone before they notice,” Baekhyun promises. “Dragons won’t be fooled by those wards anyway.” He winks. “Wouldn’t want you to lose one on the mountain, yeah?” Hyeran still pouts, but she nods in agreement.

That regret Baekhyun had hoped would never come when he first agreed to teach Hyeran stares at him as he makes his way out of the palace, but it doesn’t fill his chest. Somehow, he thinks, even if he were to be forced lay his head on the king’s guillotine in exchange for Hyeran’s safety and happiness, he would do it and still feel no regret.

And that’s fucking terrifying.

*

Minseok’s surprise to see Baekhyun when he returns to his tavern the morning after he'd stormed out of there is barely concealed by his usual haughty smirk and disinterested set of his shoulders.

“You’re back,” he states in an unwelcome tone. Minseok hates him anyway.

“I’m back,” Baekhyun echoes pleasantly. “Don’t worry. I didn’t come to enjoy your grog.”

“You don’t even like the stuff,” Minseok says.

Baekhyun shrugs. “You’re right. Hani is just too beautiful to ignore for long.” Minseok frowns, his countenance darkening.

“Why are you here?” he demands. Baekhyun purses his lips and glances around pointedly at where they’re standing.

Minseok sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I shouldn’t even let you in here, exile.”

“Don't pretend you can fucking stop me, Xiumin,” Baekhyun retorts. “You have things I want, and I always get the shit I want.”

“Yes, you do seem to have that annoying tendency,” Minseok relents. He leads Baekhyun to a table near the back, and Baekhyun grabs his wrist, stopping him from sitting down.

“Quieter,” Baekhyun requests. Minseok’s eyes narrow, but he leads Baekhyun into his office anyway. His shoulders are stiff as he walks, but his hands are steady. His magical presence pricks at the edges of Baekhyun’s mental wards. Baekhyun forces himself not to flinch, to pretend to not even have noticed. He's here for a favor with nothing to offer in return; hostility won't get him anywhere.

Minseok circles around to sit at his low desk. The sleeping pallet in the corner of the room is rumpled, the blankets askew. 

“Hani is gone?”

“Heeyeon is working today,” Minseok says. “Han has an...unwanted suitor.”

Baekhyun just nods. He has nothing to contribute to the topic. He has never understood Minseok’s affections for any of his lovers or how they manage to coexist without jealousy. He’s barely managing to exist by himself, eyes green with how much he doesn’t want to give Hyeran up.

“Did you come here looking for her?” Minseok asks.

Baekhyun offers him a lopsided grin. “Didn’t I say I did?” he teases. Minseok’s eyes narrow.

“Put your jokes aside, exile,” Minseok orders. “Why are you really here?”

Baekhyun swallows, picking at his nails beneath the table. It’s not weak to ask for help, he tells himself, but still his body recoils at being here to do just that. He can’t trust Minseok, and he knows Minseok doesn’t trust him.

“Baekhyun,” Minseok nearly growls, and Baekhyun stares at him with his eyes narrowed and mind strongly warded.

“Food and horses,” he explains. “That’s why I’m here.” Minseok sniffs.

“You’re asking me for supplies,” he murmurs, lifting a hand to tap his fingers along his jaw. “Interesting.” Baekhyun keeps his mouth shut, waiting. 

“How many horses?” Minseok asks after a long pause, and Baekhyun’s heart goes ahead and drops into his stomach. He could lie and say three, but then he’d have an extra horse to care for. If he says one, he’ll be short a horse, and if he says two, Minseok will know he’s got an extra person going with him. Minseok’s not a fool; he knows Baekhyun wouldn’t waste space or energy on an extra horse for himself.

He swallows. “Two.”

Minseok’s eyebrows raise. “Two,” he repeats slowly. “You and a companion.”

Baekhyun holds still and neither confirms or denies.

“Where are you going?” Minseok asks.

“No where,” Baekhyun answers a little too quickly. Minseok’s frown lifts into a smirk at Baekhyun’s show of discomfort. 

“No where,” he echoes. “Really?” He taps his fingers on his jaw again. “Two horses and supplies for an undetermined amount of time seems a little overkill for going ‘no where.’” He grins now. “I’m a man of commerce, exile. I don’t give away my property for free.”

“I can pay you,” Baekhyun responds, fighting to keep his cool. He could have stolen the horses; that would be easy. Blankets would be simple enough to get his hands on from any vendor who looks to the side for a moment too long. Food, however, is not something magic can simply procur. If he had forced Hyeran to wait until spring, there would be game to hunt in the mountains and across the plains leading there. Baekhyun had lost that argument to Hyeran’s desperate voice and demanding eyes, so asking Minseok for supplies is the only option he has.

“With what?” Minseok asks. “I know you don’t have any silvers.”

“The palace is far too easy to break into after Hani shared her memories with me,” Baekhyun answers. That’s a safe enough thing to say; Minseok already knows he’s been in the palace. He doesn’t know with whom he’s been, however, and Baekhyun wants to keep it that way.

Unfortunately, Minseok just snorts and rolls his eyes. “If I wanted jewels - crown or otherwise - I would have gotten my lover to get them for me.” Baekhyun frowns but says nothing. Minseok’s crooked grin edges into a smirk. “What I want as payment from you, exile, is _information_.”

“My magic won’t mean a fucking thing to you,” Baekhyun says simply with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Mind readers and elementals can’t learn original magic. You already know that much, Minseok. Come the fuck on.” He shows a smirk of his own, hoping his bravado is enough to deter Minseok into agreeing to an actual form of money.

Minseok leans forward, and Baekhyun knows his hopes are dashed. “I’ve long given up on learning your alchemy,” he states. “But I know you’ve been in the palace. I know you’ve set new wards in the palace. What I don’t know is _why._ ” He props his elbows on his desk and waits. Baekhyun stares back at him, matching Minseok’s silence with his own. Magical presence creeps along the edges of Baekhyun’s mental wards, and he raises an eyebrow at Minseok.

“Mind magic is real fuckin’ impossible for amateurs to do anythin’ with,” Baekhyun murmurs casually, but it’s a warning.

“Kindness is hard to show to those who are rat shit towards you,” Minseok counters in the same tone. Baekhyun grimaces.

“Look ‘ere,” he starts. “Give me what I need, and when I’ve gone and done what I need to do, I’ll tell you every-fucking-thing you want to fucking know. Yeah?”

“Not how this works, exile.” Minseok’s voice is hard, and his stare is sharp. Baekhyun sighs.

“You can make an exception,” he tries. “If nothing else, you know I always make bloodydamn good on my promises.” Minseok closes his eyes, and Baekhyun lowers his, watching his hands and feet to make sure they haven’t started fidgeting with his impatience. 

“You’re the one who owes me,” Minseok says after a long moment. “You’re in no position to do anything outside of what I require if you want my services.”

“Don’t force me to fucking steal,” Baekhyun warns.

Minseok barks out a sharp laugh. “What’s stopping you from that, exile? It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Baekhyun slams a hand down on the desk, patience frazzled. “I didn’t steal from you!”

“You nearly had me killed just for being in association with you!” Minseok counters. “Junmyeon, Han- all of us! Held for weeks in the fucking palace dungeons until we managed to fake our deaths by poison and Hani got us out.”

“I helped with that,” Baekhyun reminds him. “I held up the illusions for you and your whores. You would be exiled the same as me if I hadn’t. So think about that. Fucking _remember_ that. It was an accident, and I helped you get the fuck out of it.”

“And since then, I’ve provided you with a route into the palace, information from the palace, and I forget how much wasted grog you’re responsible for.”

“Fuck, Minseok, come the fuck on,” Baekhyun stresses. “I promise I’ll make sure you know everything, every fucking detail, if you just-”

“No.”

Baekhyun closes his eyes, pressing the heels of his hands over them. “Fucking fine. _Fine._ ” He speaks so low he can barely hear himself, already regretting his next offer. “Two questions,” he bargains. “You can ask me two questions in exchange for the two things I’ve asked for: supplies and horses.” Baekhyun can’t see Minseok’s pleased grin in response to his new deal, but he can feel it in the energy in the air.

“Three,” Minseok counters. “One for each horse, one for the supplies.”

“Two,” Baekhyun repeats, looking back at Minseok to hold his ground. One answer is dangerous enough; two is stepping into the belly of the beast.

Minseok exhales, watching him. “Any question I want?”

 _Fuck,_ Baekhyun thinks. “Yeah,” he says. He’s making a mistake. He knows it.

“Two then,” Minseok agrees. He holds out his hand. “So I know you’re not lying,” he adds, gesturing for Baekhyun to take his hand. Baekhyun rolls his eyes.

“I already promised to answer,” he reminds, crossing a hand over his heart. “Why would you offer me the chance to fuck with your perception of my words?” He points at Minseok’s hand. Minseok draws back, eyebrows furrowed.

“What does that mean?” he demands.

Baekhyun snorts. “I wonder if Han neglected to teach you on purpose or if he doesn’t know…”

“Exile,” Minseok growls.

“A lesson then,” Baekhyun proposes. “Since you asked so bloodydamn nicely.” He all but beams at Minseok, and he enjoys the way the man grumbles, disgruntled at being made the lesser of the conversation. Baekhyun props his elbows up on the table, leaning forward. “Physical contact is closer than mental contact. If you want me to tell the truth, it’s better not to give me easy access to your rat shit mind.” Minseok frowns. Baekhyun shrugs. “If I take your hand, you’ll be asking me to tell the truth while giving me permission to fuck you over. So yeah, I’ll take your hand and fuck you over right now if that’s what you fuckin’ want.”

“Are you lying?” Minseok asks.

Baekhyun leans back. “Just givin’ you a tip, man. Fucking believe me or fucking don’t. Your call.” He sets his hand on the table, giving Minseok the option to believe him or not. The tavern owner makes no move to take Baekhyun’s hands. Baekhyun bites his lip to hide his smile; that was the right move.

Minseok takes a long moment to think, visibly chewing on his words, and when he opens his mouth to ask, Baekhyun immediately fully regrets his choice. “Where are you going?”

Baekhyun grits his teeth, spitting his answer through the spaces. “The dragon graveyard,” he reveals, and Minseok is a smart man. He puts the pieces in place only too easily.

“You’re looking for the Word of Dragons,” he accuses. It’s not a question, so Baekhyun gives no response. “And you know exactly where it is.” He laughs. “Of course you do.” He taps his jaw with his fingers again. “I want to ask why,” he whispers. He glances at Baekhyun, and Baekhyun purposefully purses his lips. He’s not going to be fucking _tricked_ into answering three of Minseok’s curiosities. “Seems like a fucking waste of a question, however,” Minseok says. He clasps his hands together. “Then...tell me who you’re going with.”

“That’s not a question.”

Minseok huffs at Baekhyun’s cheek. “Who are you taking with you?” Baekhyun considers swallowing his tongue or cutting it out to escape answering this. “Exile,” Minseok presses. “You asked for two horses. I know you’re taking someone along with you.”

Baekhyun keeps himself quiet for a long moment, holding his breath. Maybe if he waits long enough Minseok will decide this isn’t the right question to ask. 

“Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun flinches. No such luck.

“Hyeran,” he whispers. Minseok blinks, blinks twice, blinks again. His fingers pause in tapping on his jaw.

“Hyeran…” he sounds out slowly. “A girl? You’re taking some girl?” He resumes tapping. “Wait. Hyeran. Why do I know that- what the fuck.” It’s not a question. “You’re taking the prin-”

Baekhyun launches himself out of his chair, diving over Minseok’s desk and tackling him to the ground, the sound of his voice stolen from his throat. “Say nothing,” Baekhyun growls, standing over him. “Not a fucking word.” Minseok glares at him, and his lips shape what looks an awful fucking lot like ‘fuck you,’ but there’s no sound. 

“Minseok,” Baekhyun says. “Your silence. You can’t fucking tell anyone.” Still glaring, Minseok nods, and Baekhyun steps back, relaxing his magic from Minseok’s voice.

“I can’t believe this,” Minseok breathes from the ground, hand pressed to his chest as he works to get this new information through his mind. “But it’s _you,_ so I almost can. _What in the seven…?_ ”

“I volunteered information about your own magic to you,” Baekhyun interrupts. “I could make an argument right now that you’re in my debt.” Minseok frowns but doesn’t argue. “So, horses?” Baekhyun reminds, cutting him off. “Supplies?”

Minseok appears to think about it, pausing like he’s going to make another demand, and Baekhyun almost growls in his impatience. “I’ll get it done,” Minseok agrees finally. “As promised.”

“I’ll be here at midnight tomorrow,” Baekhyun says. He pauses before he turns to leave. “Thank you.”

Minseok pushes himself to his feet. “Don’t thank me yet,” he says in warning.

“You won’t back out,” Baekhyun tells him. “The loss to you is too much.” Minseok stares at him for a moment, and when he nods, it’s terse. He doesn’t tell Baekhyun he’s happy to help because it would be a lie. Minseok is only doing this because it will gain him something.

And that’s exactly what Baekhyun fears.

“When you come back, you owe me the rest, exile,” Minseok states.

“If I come back,” Baekhyun retorts, and there’s a lot more hidden in those words than Minseok, as smart, as quick as he is, will be able to catch. He knows about Baekhyun’s magic, but he doesn’t know about its origins. He knows with whom Baekhyun is traveling, but he doesn't know of Baekhyun’s affections for the princess. Baekhyun can only pray Minseok keeps his word and keeps his mouth shut, for Hyeran’s safety if not his own. “See you in two nights.”

“You won’t see me. I’ll leave everything prepared for you to simply take.”

Baekhyun draws his hood over his head. “In that case, pass a message to Jongdae for me to go ahead and repurpose the room I’ve been using. I won’t be needing it anymore.” Baekhyun leaves at that, crossing his fingers underneath his traveler’s cloak and wishing on Chen’s legacy that Minseok doesn’t fuck him over.

*

Baekhyun’s trepidations towards Minseok’s trustworthiness appear to prove baseless when he rounds the back of the tavern towards the stables at just past midnight two days after his meeting with Minseok. Two horses, laden with long-distance saddles and full saddlebags, stand with tethered bridles, licking at the bits in their mouths. A note sticks out of one of the saddlebags, and Baekhyun tugs it out, unfolding the gently creased paper.

His name is written in a fine scrawl along with the words ‘you owe me.’ Baekhyun sets the note on fire and blows the ashes back towards Minseok’s tavern in spite.

He really is grateful for his help, he’s just not pleased with the unbalanced conditions on which it was offered.

“Alright, beastie,” Baekhyun whispers to one of the horses, reaching out slow and careful to settle his hand along the creature’s neck. She stamps her foot and brays softly, and Baekhyun smiles, reaching around to run a hand down her long face. “‘Atta girl,” he murmurs. Her nose is velvet, and her breath tickles his palm. He unties her reigns from the stable post and moves towards the other horse, his tail flicking behind him while his ears prick up. 

“C’mon,” Baekhyun calls softly to him. “C’mon. I got a pretty princess for you, boy. Sounds good, yeah?” The horse lifts its head away from Baekhyun hand when he reaches out, but Baekhyun just waits for him to calm before he grabs the side of his bridle, pulling the horse’s face down and calming him with a hand along the long stripe on his face. “That’s it,” Baekhyun breathes. “Calm like that, that’s right.” He unties this one’s reigns as well, and he stares right back at the two horses waiting for him to do something.

“Can’t ride you both, I guess,” he mutters. He flicks one hand out towards a bit of frayed rope lying on the stable floor, and it twists, the braid tightening as it lifts into the air and knots itself through the mare’s reins. Baekhyun ties the other end of the rope the post of the stallion’s saddle and throws his reins over his head. 

“Ready, boy?” he asks, patting the horse’s shoulder, and the horse’s snort is yes enough for Baekhyun. He steps quickly into one stirrup and heaves himself up, swinging one leg over to sit astride the beast. “That’s it,” he coos. He tugs his steed’s reigns once and digs his heels into the horse’s side. He clicks his tongue against his teeth, and the horse walks forward, carrying Baekhyun out towards the palace, leading his sister behind.

It’s different like this, walking to the palace out in the open, but a man who owns a horse in the inner city is a respectable man. And so Baekhyun sees only a few sideways glances at the second horse riding with him, but no one questions him, no one stares any longer than necessary.

Clearly, he should have been riding horses around this part of the kingdom all his life. Hiding in plain sight is much more fun.

“Whoa,” Baekhyun calls to his steed when they’ve reached his usual entrance to the palace. The horse stops, listening to the direction and the tug on his reigns. Baekhyun slips his feet free of the stirrups and slides to the ground, tying the two horses to a short tree struggling to grow along the castle’s foundation. 

“I’ll be right back,” he tells them, and he steps unbothered into the muck, climbing through the sewer grates and flicking the mud and stench right off of him with magic. 

The wards he’d set up along this route guide him just as much as his instincts do, and he allows himself to space out. He’s walked this route so many times and seen maybe one or two guards during the entirety of his time teaching the princess that he has given up fearing being caught. He doesn’t expect to see anyone, definitely not the maid servants at this hour, so when a hand grabs his arm and a voice says, “Baekhyun,” he doesn’t think before he reacts.

Baekhyun grabs the person’s wrist and throws them back, hand closed to snatch the sound of their scream from their throat. The dull thud of impact is accompanied by a vaguely pained expression on a familiar face guarded by hands sparkling with pale blue magic.

“Hyeran!” Baekhyun hisses. “What in the seven are you doing?”

The princess peels herself away from the wall, shaking her hands to clear the magic barrier she’d managed to put up just in time before Baekhyun’s physical attack could really hurt her. She shrugs her shoulders. Her neck seems oddly bare without the ruby earrings dangling against it. “I thought I would come meet you.”

“I could have fucking killed you!” Baekhyun protests.

“I won’t be killed that easily,” Hyeran says with a light laugh. She winces even still, shoulder hunched underneath the deep purple cloak she’s got draped around her. Her dress is simple, practical even if not quite warm enough for where they’re going. 

Baekhyun sighs. “Turn the fuck around,” he orders, and Hyeran, ever trusting of him, listens. Baekhyun holds his hands out just a couple inches over her back, settling healing magic into her bones to draw out the aches from her hitting the wall. “Better?”

“Much, thank you,” the princess says. She shows him a smile. “Are we leaving now?”

“Now would be your last fucking chance to change your bloodydamn mind,” Baekhyun confirms, and Hyeran’s smile stretches into a full grin.

“I’m ready,” she assures him. “I want to do this. I need to.”

Baekhyun regards her, the determination in her eyes and the magic sparking on her knuckles. “As you’ll ever be,” he agrees. “C’mon.” He turns, heading back down towards the bowels of the castle towards the sewers. The lower they go, the more Hyeran’s curiosity turns to open disgust. Baekhyun can’t help but laugh.

“You come this way every time?” she whispers, sounding nearly on the verge of throwing up.

“Fuck yeah I do,” Baekhyun says. “Fucking love it, y’know? All the rat shit and the rat shittier to wade through.”

“I feel a lot of regret right now,” Hyeran mutters, and her face is vaguely green. Baekhyun almost reaches back to take her hand, to comfort her, but he stops himself. He can’t let himself touch her. He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to let her go if he does.

“Don’t worry, princess,” he says instead. “I’ve never shown up in your room with this fucking filth on me before, right?” They reach the inner grate, and Baekhyun holds out a hand, lifting the iron bars away from it. “Royalty first, yeah?”

Hyeran looks desperately like she wants to say no, and for a moment, Baekhyun almost thinks she will, but then she’s screwing up her posture and stalking forward without even a glance in Baekhyun’s direction, lowering herself into the sewer.

“Fuck, princess,” Baekhyun encourages, dropping in behind her. He holds out a hand of light, showing her the way is straight out from here. “I think you just lost all your status with that maneuver.”

“I’ll drown you,” Hyeran threatens. Baekhyun just keeps laughing while Hyeran mutters empty threats behind him as they trudge through the sewer. Her expression, her clear disgust that she’s trying to hide, is the best reminder to him that this trip isn’t going to be easy for her. She’s never had to live outside of luxury before. Instead of Baekhyun stepping out of his world to enter hers, this is her leaving the comfort of the palace to enter his, to try to pull off a seemingly impossible mission.

“Hey, sweetheart, quit grumbling,” Baekhyun alerts her, keeping his voice hush. “We’re getting out here.” He grabs the outside grate and gives it a couple good tugs before it pops free, opening wide enough for them to get through. “Go on,” he urges, letting Hyeran out first. 

“That was the longest walk of my life,” Hyeran says once they’re up on dry ground, watching Baekhyun magic cleanliness into her dress, taking away the stains like they’d never been there in the first place. 

“That was nothin’, princess,” Baekhyun promises, gesturing for her to follow him. “Hope those aren’t new clothes. They’ll be fucking ruined by the time we get back.” Hyeran just shrugs and tugs her cloak tighter around her shoulders.

“When will that be?”

“A couple weeks by foot,” Baekhyun answers. Hyeran doesn’t seem annoyed at the long travel time at all; she’s probably pleased to be out of the palace even if she’s standing closer the sewer than any city vendor. “So let me introduce you to our travel companions.” He guides her to the horses. “The stallion may like you more than me,” he says. “I don’t fucking know their names so don’t ask.” Hyeran’s eyes light up, looking between the two beasts and then back to Baekhyun.

“How long will it take with them?” she asks, rubbing her knuckles over the stallion’s nose. He whinnies at her, tossing his head.

“Just over a week at most?” Baekhyun guesses. “The saddlebags are full of food and blankets.”

“I’m really doing this?” Hyeran looks at Baekhyun for confirmation, and he kneels to give her his knee to help her onto her horse.

“It’s too late to back out,” Baekhyun says. “You’re already out of the fucking palace.” Hyeran steps carefully onto his knee, hands gripping the stallion’s saddle, and lifts quickly, one foot in the stirrup and using Baekhyun as her leverage to swing herself onto the horse. “And now you’re already on the bloodydamn horse.” 

Baekhyun gets to his feet and unties the stallion’s reins. He disintegrates the rope tying the mare to her brother’s saddle with a mere flick of his wrist and tosses the reins over the horse’s neck. Hyeran catches them, sitting straight and comfortable in her saddle. 

Baekhyun smirks. “And you’ve got the reins, princess, so I say you’re really fucking doing this.”

“ _Bloodydamn,_ ” Hyeran whispers, hardly stuttering on that one, and Baekhyun pats her horse’s neck.

“Hope you know how to gallop, girlie,” he starts, swinging himself up and into the mare’s saddle. “We’ve got a fuckton of ground to cover.” He doesn’t wait for a response from her, just kicks his horse’s sides and lets the mare dart forward, her hooves clopping over the cobblestones, the stallion’s echoing just behind them. When they get further from the inner city, the roads turn to dirt, and Baekhyun guides them north, meandering through alleys and back roads to avoid being seen by anyone who may recognize the princess.

“How are we getting out?” Hyeran calls up to Baekhyun, riding hard behind him. She keeps pace on her horse just fine, and it makes Baekhyun proud that a lady like her, taught to ride side saddle, can run with the best of them.

“The broken north gate,” Baekhyun returns, twisting to look back at her. He grins, toothy and proud. “I’m the one who broke it.” Hyeran bursts into laughter at that, and Baekhyun may be fooling himself, but her laughter sounds fond. It warms him, makes him feel invincible as they race toward the north gate. 

There’s no guards up here. No one lives in this area of the kingdom anymore, and the broken gate is now too crumpled to try digging through or climbing over. Baekhyun regards it with a scrutinizing eye as they run up to it on their horses.

“Don’t slow!” he orders Hyeran, and he lifts himself out of his saddle, holding himself up with his knees tight against the horse’s flanks and only one hand gripping the reins. He holds out his other, gathering his magic, letting it breathe in him.

He exhales.

“ _Move!_ ”

Magic, air tinged with the pale blue, bursts forth, driving through the broken gate and scattering it out into the dry plains leading to the mountains. The air whips wild out here, throwing back the hood of Baekhyun’s cloak and tugging on his shirt. It carries Hyeran’s laugh, a giddy sound that seems to taste the air as she looks for the first time at what being free is like.

Baekhyun pulls his steed to a trot, and Hyeran comes up beside him, matching his pace.

“What do you think, princess?” Baekhyun asks, gesturing with open arms at the wide expanse of nothing but wild for as far as the eye can see. In the dark, the ridges of the mountains aren’t visible, but he knows they’re there. 

“Incredible,” she breathes. “Being out here like this? Wow, I-” She cuts herself off when her voice shakes, and she whispers very quietly, “I feel free.” Baekhyun doesn’t comment on the tears he can hear in her voice, just calls on his magic to direct the light of the stars and moon to glow down in front of them and light their way.

“Let’s run into the sunrise, sweetheart,” Baekhyun says with exaggerated ardour, and Hyeran laughs through her happy tears, taking off after him across the plains.

“It’s supposed to be the sunset!” she cries, but Baekhyun won’t dignify that with a response. Sunsets are the end; sunset is when Hyeran will be wed to some random suitor. Sunrise is the beginning; sunrise is when Baekhyun can pretend it’s him Hyeran would choose to marry.

*

“This stuff is starting to grow on me,” Hyeran mumbles around a mouthful of salted pork. “Or I’m just that hungry that everything tastes good.”

“Welcome out of the fucking lap of luxury,” Baekhyun tells her, taking a bite of his own salted pork and digging in one of the saddlebags for an apple to split between himself and the horses. “We have salted pork, some smoked chicken, and jerky. I don’t fucking know what kind though, so don’t ask.”

Hyeran turns her nose up. “That is not appetizing at all.”

“It will be when you’re bloodydamn starving and sick of fucking salted pork,” Baekhyun tells her. “Trust me.”

Hyeran shrugs and shoves the last bite of her pork in her mouth, leaning down to wipe her hands off on the grass. “Was it like this?” she asks out of the blue, and Baekhyun turns from breaking his apple into quarters. He hands one quarter to Hyeran.

“Was what like this?”

Hyeran turns the apple over in her fingers. “Being in exile,” she clarifies. “The cliffs. Is it quiet like this?”

Baekhyun bites his lip, turning to give the mare a quarter of the apple and the stallion the other. “No,” he says. “It’s not quiet. The cliffs are always groaning, and the wind howls, and the waves crash and crash and crash.” He pets the mare’s face as he talks. “It’s hard to live there. Hard to survive.”

“Oh,” Hyeran murmurs. “But you survived.” She starts gathering up the blankets she’d slept in, too exhausted from the hard ride to even complain about the ground. Still, Baekhyun had been impressed at how easily she’d just settled down across from him and slept. Maybe there’s the makings of an exile in her too.

“Yeah,” he says. “Alchemical magic… my magic… that’s...that’s really the only way you can live out there.” He looks off into the west where the cliffs are with a fond smile on his face. His hair whips into his eyes. “It’s home, though. That’s where I grew up. Where I learned magic. Where my parents were so in love.”

“Wow,” Hyeran breathes. “You didn’t swear even once in all of that.”

That jolts Baekhyun from his nostalgia, and he groans. “Fuck me,” he says for good measure. He smiles at Hyeran’s giggles. “Erase the fire,” he directs. “We can’t leave any traces to be followed.”

“Do you think they’re looking for me?” Hyeran asks, and Baekhyun can’t look away from her fingers as she not only scatters any evidence of their path to the wind but sets an illusion so they can’t be seen. She’s incredible.

“Do you really need me to fucking answer that?” Baekhyun snorts.

Hyeran tightens her cloak and draws the hood up over her head. “I suppose not,” she answers. She picks up her blankets and slide them back into place on her stallion’s saddle. Without Baekhyun’s help, she swings herself up onto her horse’s back, and Baekhyun follows her initiative. 

They walk in silence for awhile, the rhythm of the horses’ hooves and the wind their only company. Baekhyun imagines Hyeran in fur-lined leggings and boots, electing to wear trousers instead of a dress during the winters on the cliffs. He imagines her playing in the snow and tending to that apple tree out back of his childhood home. 

He’s so fucking sunk.

“When did you first come to the kingdom?” Hyeran asks, voice weaving through Baekhyun’s thoughts. “I thought you were born exiled?”

“I was,” Baekhyun confirms. “But I’ve been running off to come here- well, _there_ -ever since I was… I don’t fuckin’ know. Ten maybe? Met Jongdae right away then, and we-”

“Jongdae is Lord Chen?”

“Yeah, that fucker,” Baekhyun says. “We hit it off right away, I guess. He’s always been a real fuckin’ genius with war magic. His dad trained your father’s troops.”

Hyeran’s eyes go wide. “ _Oh!_ ” she exclaims. “I didn’t even think of it- Jongdae. Of course he’s him. My father hated his father. I guess I thought that meant I was supposed to hate Jongdae too. And here I’ve been admiring him ever since he became such a powerful street lord.”

“Yeah, he hates the shit out of the king,” Baekhyun says. “I do too, in case there was any doubt.”

Hyeran laughs at that. “There wasn’t,” she assures him. “Can I ask something else?”

“Curiosity didn’t just kill the cat, sweetheart,” Baekhyun responds pleasantly. “It fucking obliterated it with lightning.”

Hyeran ignores him, asking, “How old are you?”

Baekhyun blinks. “Twenty-five,” he answers easily. “Why?”

Hyeran just shrugs, leaning into her horse’s trot a little more than necessary. “I guess… I don’t know. I wanted to know.” She twists her hands in her horse’s reins. “I’m eighteen!” she volunteers with a flush. “Just in case you didn’t… know…”

“I knew,” Baekhyun says.

“Have you got a… a girl?” Hyeran asks. She’s biting her lip, and Baekhyun would love to lean over and suck it back out of her mouth to kiss it instead.

“Yeah,” he tells her. “This obnoxious little princess who keeps demanding all my fucking time.”

“Hey!” Hyeran protests. “I’m being serious.” She pouts.

“Fuck, you’re cute,” Baekhyun murmurs, and he doesn’t quite say it quietly enough to avoid her notice. She flushes; Baekhyun just shakes his head. “There’s no one, really.”

“Oh,” Hyeran murmurs, still pink. “Well, that’s… too bad, I guess. I mean, you’re a great person even with all the cursing and the fact that you’re an exile and a criminal and-”

“I get the idea,” Baekhyun cuts her off. It’s not that what she’s saying isn’t true; it’s that what she’s saying doesn’t sound like she cares any extra about him. His heart has become fragile to the matter of Hyeran, and it fucking sucks. “Now, is it my turn to ask you something?”

“Okay,” Hyeran agrees.

“Does this not scare you?” he asks. “Being alone with me? Heading out on a quest where dozens of men have already died?”

Hyeran scrutinizes his face and then turns to stare forward as she answers. There’s a slight flush to her cheeks, and the dirt streaked along one makes her look so very wild and so very brave. “Not at all,” she whispers. “I know you’ll protect me. So I’m not scared.” She shows him a smile. “I’m terrified of spiders though, so if we have to see spiders then I might change my answer.”

Baekhyun’s stomach hurts from how hard he laughs at that. “I’m scared of spiders too,” he confesses. “One time, this one fucking time, I was working on a spell, I don’t even fucking know what it was now, but a spider wandered into the middle of my diagram and it fucking grew a thousand times bigger.” He looks very seriously at Hyeran. “So. I. Fucking. Hate. Spiders.”

“I’m so glad I wasn’t there,” Hyeran says, serious despite her giggles.

“Thanks for the bloodydamn support, princess,” Baekhyun grumbles. It’s like this, just talking, asking questions, some easy and some bordering on too close to Baekhyun's chest, that they make their way the rest of the way across the plains and into the foothills of the mountains. The conversation is nice, and Baekhyun takes the time to teach Hyeran about masking her magical presence, showing her how to become invisible not only to the eye but to the senses. She catches on quickly; he knew she would.

“This is how we’re going to climb the mountain, got it?” Baekhyun buries his magical presence deep inside himself, keeping his abilities hidden from Hyeran, from the very energy of the earth itself. “We can’t afford to be caught using magic.”

Hyeran nods. “Okay. That’s a new challenge.”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun acquiesces. “But that’s how we’re going to survive. I know this mountain, remember? Trust me.”

“I do,” Hyeran returns without hesitation. Baekhyun feels warm despite the winter chill, harsher the further up they go.

“Tomorrow we’ll have to continue without the horses,” he warns her. “Carry what we can. It’s a hard hike, but you’ll be fuckin’ fine. I’m not worried.”

“Me neither,” Hyeran says, but Baekhyun thinks she is, just a little. The tremor in her fingers gives her away, and her cloak flutters with her nervous energy.

“Just practice hiding your presence,” Baekhyun suggests. “Something to focus on.” She follows his suggestion, and while she does, Baekhyun works to slowly strip himself of the wards he’s placed around his mind. Sure his magical presence is hidden, but in the graveyard of dragons, his wards are like a beacon that he’s a magic user.

He would very much like to not end up like the men who’ve tried this quest before him.

_Fucking dead._

They camp that night beside a stream, tying the horses there where they can drink and graze to their hearts’ content. When Hyeran falls asleep, long hair fanned out across the grass, Baekhyun watches the moonlight on her face and wishes he could hold her to keep her warm when she shivers. Instead, he just puts another log on the fire and wills himself to sleep before dawn breaks.

*

“This was a bad idea,” Hyeran mutters, kicking at her bag in frustration. She’s shivering so badly that her words are accompanied by the clack of chattering teeth. Her cloak flutters around her, the deep purple hanging heavily on her shoulders instead of being alive with her power. She’s done well, keeping it hidden within herself. Underneath her purple cloak, a spare one made of rabbit fur peeks out. Baekhyun doesn’t regret forcing her into both cloaks; he knew she’d freeze up here. “A really bad idea,” Hyeran echoes herself. She stares out the mouth of the mountain cave at the white death of a winter storm raging outside.

Baekhyun watches her with a snort of disbelief. “This was your rat shit idea, Princess,” he reminds, propping his bag up against the wall of the cave and settling down to lean against it like a pillow. Hyeran growls in the least princess-like manner, whirling back around to face him with her hair fluttering wildly about her face. Baekhyun holds up his hands in surrender. “Hey, don’t take your shit out on me. I said we should wait for spring. You’re the one who insisted we leave immediately.”

Hyeran tosses her hair over her shoulder, pushing the loose strands back with cold, clumsy fingers buried in wool mittens. “You know why! If I waited any longer, my father would have had me married off!”

“Is that really so awful?” Baekhyun asks just to tease, adjusting to lay more comfortably against his bag. His toes are a little numb from the cold, but at least in this cave, they’re out of the wind. He can feel his cheeks again already. He tugs his gloves from his hands and makes to unfasten his cloak. “Married to a rich prince or king or some other rich fucker, settled in the life of luxury. Honestly, isn’t that every woman’s dream?”

Hyeran snorts, pulling off her own gloves. “You know I’m not like that.”

Baekhyun shows her a grin. The princess is definitely not like that. “You’re stubborn and spoiled,” he teases. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference,” Hyeran starts, marching up to Baekhyun and looking down her nose at him, “is that I don’t give a…” She pauses, swallows. Baekhyun smirks, and Hyeran’s cheeks color. She visibly braces herself. “I don’t give a _fuck_ about being a princess.” 

“Well, you sure swear like one, sweetheart,” Baekhyun laughs, and Hyeran fumes. She’s so pretty when she’s angry. There’s rarely a time when Baekhyun doesn’t find her pretty, but being alone on this quest with her has only fucked him over and enhanced his affection for her. What he thinks of the princess really doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. The fact that he even knows her is a miracle in itself, and he tries to be content with that.

Of course, because he’s in love with her, he’s failing entirely at settling for ‘content.’

“I’m going to have a slum rat’s mouth if I keep spending my time around you,” Hyeran states, crossing her arms. She’s got that determined look on her face again. “ _Shit,_ it’s cold.”

Baekhyun can’t help himself. He bursts out laughing. “You’re too cute, Princess. Really too fuckin’ cute.” Hyeran grumbles, but her cheeks are still colored. Baekhyun’s heart soars in his chest. He’s never going to get to have her, but at least he can make her blush. At least he gets to hike up this mountain in the middle of the coldest season with her. He’s seen sides of her that no other man will ever get to see.

“It’s still cold,” Hyeran says. Her stern voice and the pout of her face clash horribly, but Baekhyun is forever too endeared by each contrast and juxtaposition that makes up Hyeran. The princess sighs. “Sorry,” she says. “I have to.” She holds up her hand, middle finger and thumb pressed together and to snap. She inhales, lips pursed in concentration, and dread curls tight around Baekhyun’s throat. He gave her one rule before they started hiking: no magic. And she’s about to use it.

Baekhyun moves before he thinks about what he’s doing.

He leaps up, grabbing Hyeran’s hand in one of his and covering her mouth with his other, startling her out of her concentration. Her distraction causes her to lose touch with her power before it has a chance to dance out of her skin. His momentum slams them both backwards against the cave wall, and Baekhyun twists so that it’s his body that takes the impact. Still, his hands are on Hyeran, and that’s the first boundary he set for himself when it comes to her.

Hyeran’s eyes are enraged and wide with shock. Baekhyun releases her immediately, stepping back. Hyeran smoothes her thick skirt and readjusts her cloak over her shoulders.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says immediately. “I- no magic, remember? I didn’t mean to fuckin’... uh… touch you.”

“Have I got the plague or something?” Hyeran starts, cheeks flaming and teeth chattering. She doesn’t seem even marginally bothered that Baekhyun had put his hands on her skin, but Baekhyun’s hands are still tingling with the phantom of the sensation. Rat _shit._ “I’m cold, Baekhyun! I need fire, and you know we can’t get wood out there right now. Not in the storm.”

She’s right. Of course she is. Baekhyun would go out there right now to find wood if he didn’t already know it’s a futile mission. Hyeran is used to having fire burning merrily in her rooms and sun shining in her kingdom. She didn’t grow up in the harsh, rocky cliffs that the oceans threaten to tear asunder. She didn’t grow up learning alchemical magic because that’s the only way to survive in the lands of exile. Hyeran’s magic is the same magic, but when she uses it, it doesn’t come with the hard edge of fighting for survival. No matter what the princess says, she grew up in luxury and will continue to live in luxury.

“Just a quick spell,” Hyeran pleads. She lifts her hand, fingers poised to snap. “We’ll be warm, and-”

“Magic is forbidden on this mountain,” Baekhyun hisses, grabbing her hand again, sliding his fingers in the spaces between hers to keep her from forming any sort of spellwork. “I told you that before we set out.”

Hyeran’s fury dissipates. “I thought you were teasing me!” she blurts out, eyes wide. “I thought that was a-!”

“Why the fuck would I joke about that?” Baekhyun asks her, voice harsher than he intends it to be. Hyeran flinches back, pulling her hand from his grip and wrapping her cloak around herself with her arms crossed.

“Because you always do,” she says. “You always tell me I can’t do things and challenge me until I can!” She kicks miserably at her bag again. “I didn’t know you meant it.”

She’s still young, Baekhyun has to remind himself. She’s just a few weeks from nineteen. He rubs his temples. “Listen, princess,” he says, settling back down against his back, legs bent and spread, resting his elbows on his knees. “You decided to go on a quest that a dozen mages before you have failed to prove to your father that you’re worth more than a political marriage. Did you think about why those mages failed?”

“Because they’re weak,” Hyeran answers immediately. “They’re doing it for money and power.” She scowls, spiteful. “They don’t have anything to _prove_.”

Baekhyun twists his fingers together. “There’s probably some truth to that,” he relents, “but there’s a much bigger reason why magic users can’t simply walk up to the dragon graveyard and take the Word of Dragons. There’s a reason this is dangerous. There’s a reason why, if you start a fire with your magic, we’ll both be dead before morning.”

He watches her think, watches her recount their lessons, watches the very moment it all clicks into place for her.

“The dragons,” she whispers. “They’re here.”

“Their spirits, yeah,” Baekhyun confirms. “They have nothing to protect except the stone now, and I can’t promise that me being there will…. well. Fuck. Just… no magic, okay? Any magic they feel, no matter how miniscule, how unaggressive - even the wards in those earrings I told you to leave behind - they will attack without mercy.”

Hyeran nods, sighing. She slides down the cave wall to sit in a huddled ball of cloaks and fur-lined skirts. “Okay,” she says, and she sounds properly afraid now. “Okay. So when you said dangerous, you meant it.”

Baekhyun just stares at her.

“Fuck,” she whispers. “And now I’m going to freeze to death. My clothes are wet from the snow, and I’m cold and I can’t feel my face all that well.” She whines softly. “Double fuck.”

“I hear the more you swear the warmer you are,” Baekhyun jokes lamely, but it distracts Hyeran enough from her whining to snort and roll her eyes instead. Baekhyun shrugs. “Say ‘fuck’ one more time, c’mon.”

“Shut up, Baekhyun,” Hyeran growls, pushing herself to her feet. She runs a hand through her hair. “What are we going to do?” she demands. “We have a couple blankets and wet clothes. I swear I’ve never been this cold in my life, and I...”

Baekhyun frowns, letting her rant and pace. Maybe it’ll help warm her up. He has an answer to this problem; he just knows she’s not going to like it.

Actually, she’ll probably kill him for suggesting it.

But there’s no fire, and there’s no magic. As much as it pains Baekhyun to admit, even as used to the cold as he is, even he will freeze tonight if they don’t do something. It’s just that this something completely ruins his personal rule to keep his hands clear of her.

Then again, he kind of fucked that up not even ten minutes ago, so.

“...what I wouldn’t give for a hot bath and hot tea and a hot fire and-”

“You’re not going to like this,” Baekhyun interrupts. “But I… I’m not real keen on dying of frostbite, and this… is probably the only way to fucking avoid that.”

Hyeran freezes mid-rant and mid-pace. “Tell me,” she orders.

She’s really changed him because the Baekhyun from the first days he knew her would have spoken without hesitation and added a greasy wink. The Baekhyun of today actually fears her rejection, and so he swallows and blinks instead of answering.

“Tell me,” Hyeran shouts, and the sudden force of it startles Baekhyun into answering.

“We’ll have to...share body heat,” Baekhyun says, slow and careful. “Put our blankets together, and we’ll have a nice sized cocoon for two…” He tries to smile. “We’ll...snuggle?”

Hyeran’s frown looks particularly thunderous. “What part about wet clothing did you miss?” she hisses. “Even if we _snuggle,_ if we’re in wet clothing then it won’t make a difference.”

Baekhyun closes his eyes. “Fuck me and my mouth,” Baekhyun says very loudly and very dramatically, and then when Hyeran colors at his choice of wording, he thinks he should be more gentle.

_Nah._

“What I mean is we’ll both strip down, hang our clothes to dry, and fucking _cuddle_ so we don’t die of fucking frostbite.”

He might as well have slapped Hyeran across the face. “You’re asking me to just...bare myself… in front of you,” she says, tripping over the words. “We are alone in a cave! Both unmarried and...and… I-! What type of proposition even is-”

“It’s not one!” Baekhyun assures even as his body feels a little light with arousal at the idea of being with Hyeran. He’s going to have to close his eyes. He’s going to have to pray Chen smites him where he stands.

Maybe just letting the spirits of dragons blast him to bits is a better option.

It sounds like a fucking way better option.

“It sure sounds like one!” Hyeran accuses, holding her arms in front of herself. “I came on this quest to free myself of being sold to a man, not to sell myself to one.”

Baekhyun freezes. “What?” he whispers. “I- you wouldn’t- look. Listen.” Hyeran opens her mouth, and Baekhyun holds up a hand. “Fuckin’ listen, princess. Yeah, you’re gorgeous, okay? But I’m just trying to not let us get killed by a fucking stupid storm. I want to help you get the Word of Dragons, remember? That’s why I’m here. I’m here to help you. Not to fuck you. I don’t expect you to fuck me just because I helped you out, yeah? That’s not even on the table.” 

Not that he wouldn't if she let him, but he’s not even going to ask. He’s not going to make any hints. He’s just going to claim to not have any interest in her if it makes her more comfortable. It’s killing him, however.

Hyeran stand there a long moment, and then she sighs. 

“You really do wish for my father to behead you, don’t you?”

“I wish for you to be safe,” Baekhyun corrects, and then he winces at the sincerity of his own confession. 

“Oh,” Hyeran says. 

“Yeah.”

The princess stands there awkwardly for a long moment, and Baekhyun feels like he might have forgotten how to breathe in that time. His lungs burn.

“I’ve never…” Hyeran swallows. “Have you ever… with...with a girl… have you...you ever…”

“Fucked a girl?” Baekhyun supplies. Hyeran colors. Baekhyun is addicted to that blush. “Yeah. I have. But I’m not planning on fucking you, princess. I already said that. Not a single fucking intention like that.”

“Oh.” 

Baekhyun pretends her soft utterance is slightly disappointed. “I really just want us to make it to see tomorrow, and you’re right: wet clothes are not going to get us there.” He keeps going, standing to spread out the blankets on the cave floor as he talks. “So I won't even look. I’ll close my eyes. I’ll strip first. It doesn’t… I just want to live, princess. On dangerous journeys, we both have to fucking put in the work to keep each other alive.”

“But I’ve never… never… with a man. I haven’t…” Hyeran flushes harder. “I don’t know what to- I mean. I know the idea. I’ve heard maids talk. But I’ve never-”

“Hyeran,” Baekhyun interrupts. “For the last fucking time, this isn’t a proposition.” _A girl like you deserves everything,_ he thinks but doesn’t say. 

Hyeran stays quiet again, and Baekhyun doesn't rush her even if he can hear how badly her teeth are chattering. The near silence is deafening, and Baekhyun starts to fill the space with senseless chatter, telling her about the shit he and Jongdae used to get up to, telling her about his father’s penchant for stew. He’s halfway through recounting how his mother used to never let him out to play without at least fifteen wards on him in case he fell off the cliffs when Hyeran speaks up.

“You have to take your clothes off first,” she says, looking at Baekhyun. “I… I shouldn’t agree to this but… I want to succeed on this quest.” She doesn’t say it, but Baekhyun hears it anyway. She also doesn’t want to die tonight.

This is going to be a rough minute of being undressed alone.

“Don’t fuckin’ look, princess,” Baekhyun says, “lest I ruin your virgin eyes.” Hyeran’s hands fly up to cover her face, and Baekhyun feels almost bad for this, feels bad that he’s breaking her perception that her husband will be the first one to see her bare.

He snorts as he tugs his dripping shirt over his head and lays it on the ground beside his cloak to dry. That’s bloodydamn stupid anyway, he thinks as he shivers at the biting cold against his skin. “Fuck,” he whispers, frantically untying his pants and praying to whoever’s listening to not let him get frostbite on his dick in the jiffy he’s got it out, long underwear laid beside his boots and trousers.

He practically dives under the blankets, shivering, but he clenches his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering.

“Alright, princess, your turn,” he calls. He glances up at her, and the flush on her face is very bright. He wonders if she peeked at him; he figures that’s just wishful thinking. 

“Close your eyes,” Hyeran asks, the smallest she’s ever sounded, and Baekhyun obeys. He would have done so even if she hadn’t asked. He’s just a man, after all. He nearly didn’t make it through seeing her in her chemise. How can he expect himself to remain calm looking at her skin? He wonders about it though- if it’s all smooth, if she has any scars or birthmarks. 

_Breathe_ , he tells himself.

Baekhyun keeps his eyes closed and his breath held when Hyeran slips under the blankets next to him. It takes only a count to three before she’s turning and burying herself against his chest, winding her legs with his to press icy toes against his calves.

“Are you okay?” she asks, and shouldn’t Baekhyun be the one to ask that of her? Judging by the way she’s pressed so fully against him, he would like to assume she is.

 _Please don’t get hard,_ is all Baekhyun can think. “Fine,” he manages. “Just sleep.” And he doesn't manage to restrain himself from wrapping his arms around her waist and making sure she stays as warm as possible. Her skin is soft, warm against his. Her arms are the only thing keeping her chest from pressing into his, and Baekhyun’s imagination runs wild with getting to hold her like this because he’s about to fuck her, about to show her with his body exactly how much he loves her. He even imagines being allowed this just because it’s the two of them against the world together forever, because they find it hard to sleep without each other the same way Baekhyun’s parents used to.

Rat shit, he’s so fucked.

If his dick falls off, it’ll be both the ultimate punishment and the ultimate sacrifice. Anything for her though.

“Goodnight,” Hyeran mumbles against his neck.

_Anything._

*


	2. a taste of sacrifice

When Baekhyun wakes, it’s to a stillness and calm that is almost unnerving. Growing up on the cliffs means being always accompanied by the sound of the crashing waves. Spending time in the kingdom means the constant noise of people, and Jongdae’s lair is never quiet, always rowdy.

The quiet is nice. It allows Baekhyun to listen to his own breathing and his own heartbeat plodding along in time with those of the girl in his arms.

“Shit,” he murmurs under his breath, staring down at the princess of the kingdom from which he was exiled before he was even born snuggling into his chest. The pale light of morning sun glances off the snow outside to filter into the cave, leaving just enough contrast with the shadows under the blankets for Baekhyun to see Hyeran’s peacefully sleeping face. He’s almost surprised she hadn’t stirred with his waking, but with how tightly her fingers are digging into his back, her lips parted and nose wrinkled, he can only guess she’s too deep in her dreams to be aware of the outside world.

That’s good, really, because Baekhyun is definitely hard and pressed skin to skin with Hyeran. Her breath whispers over his neck, and Baekhyun shivers, willing his body to calm before she wakes. He can’t exactly help it- she’s gorgeous; he’s interested. They’re wrapped up under covers together, and their clothes are strewn about as if they’d engaged in less-than-moral activity just last night.

Hyeran’s nails digging into Baekhyun’s back really aren’t helping.

_I’m going to the seven,_ he thinks miserably, mentally glaring at his dick and wondering if getting out from under the blankets and diving into his clothes is a risk he should take. If Hyeran wakes and sees him naked, dick out and proud, she’ll probably scream or accidentally activate her magic, and the resulting avalanche or attack from dragons is not something Baekhyun wants to deal with right now.

_Jongdae,_ Baekhyun thinks desperately. _Jongdae naked. Jongdae really fuckin’ naked. Bare ass nude. Jongdae naked and covered in ratshit._ All of Baekhyun’s mental chanting can’t hope to stand up to the very real and very warm princess in his arms, but it helps. He breathes, and Hyeran shifts, leaning her head back the slightest bit. Her fingers soften on his back, wrist tickling the old burn scar on his side, and Baekhyun is winded by the pulse of fondness in his chest. 

This is one view that Baekhyun wants to keep for himself forever. It’s something he gets to see by accident, but he closes his eyes and burns the image of Hyeran sleeping against him into his eyelids. If they make it to the graveyard today, if the spirits of dragons there recognize Baekhyun’s magic, then it should be a safe journey back down the mountain side.

Selfishly, Baekhyun would almost like to bring Hyeran into weather like last night’s again just for another chance to hold her like this.

Hyeran shifts against him, murmuring as she starts to wake. Baekhyun allows himself to move with her, keeping her head supported on his arm. A few strands of her hair fall across her face, and before Baekhyun has really thought about how bad of an idea it might be, he tucks her hair back behind her ear.

Hyeran eyes flutter and squint, opening slowly. Baekhyun holds as still as he can, his hand frozen somewhere near her shoulder, watching as Hyeran’s gaze comes to focus on his face. There's something that reminds Baekhyun of magic in this moment: a spark that builds until it's ready to explode. Baekhyun gets caught up in it, the gravity between him and her. He can feel her moving, eliminating the space between them to naught but a finger's width. It feels natural to be like this, a connection between two original magic users. But maybe that's just Baekhyun’s affections simmering under his skin.

He needs to pull away. He needs to retreat.

“Mornin’, princess,” Baekhyun says, beginning to draw back from her, but Hyeran’s nails dig into his back again, holding him there.

“Good morning,” she murmurs, voice still thick with sleep. She glances between them and then turns her focus up to his face.

“We should probably start hiking again,” Baekhyun tries, but Hyeran’s nails are still in his back, the flat of her palm warm against his skin.

“Don't move,” she orders in a quiet breath. Baekhyun listens, holding still, holding his breath. Hyeran’s cheeks are colored with a blush as she leans up, her other hand moving to cup Baekhyun’s jaw. “I want to try something,” she reveals,“So please don’t…” Her whisper shakes as she draws closer. “Please don’t move.”

He should stop her. He should really fucking stop her.

He doesn't.

Hyeran’s lips touch his, and the spark explodes, racing through him with all the intent of Baekhyun’s most powerful spells. All at once, every single one of Baekhyun’s fantasies involving Hyeran seem possible. All at once, Baekhyun feels invincible.

And then it's over. Hyeran pulls away, looking up at him with a curious crook to her eyebrow. There's worry, trepidation, in the downturn of her mouth, and that's the last thing Baekhyun wants to see on her face. There are some things that, once broken, can never be reclaimed to their wholesome state. Baekhyun’s restraint is one of those things.

“Bloodydamn,” Baekhyun breathes, and he chases after Hyeran’s lips, burying his hand in her hair and kissing her again. He makes no further move than that, just kissing her hard and holding her close. Her grip on him is still firm, but not so tight that he can't pull back.

He regrets it already, having to draws away from her, and he lingers at the corner of her mouth, lips barely touching and eyes still closed. He’s quiet, simply breathing, too stunned to even to begin to think of conversation.

She kissed him, and Baekhyun is already addicted, hooked on the possibility of it happening again.

“S-sorry,” Hyeran stutters. Baekhyun has never heard her speak so hesitantly, so unsure. “I just...you said you don’t have anyone…” She’s still blushing, and Baekhyun soothes his thumb across her cheek.

“Too cute,” he whispers, aiming for his usual smirk and teasing tone, but what comes out betrays just how fond of her he is.

“You always say that,” Hyeran says. Baekhyun shrugs.

“I’m not a fuckin’ liar, princess.”

She watches his face for a long moment after he speaks, fingers still gentle on his jaw. “I lied,” she admits. “I’m not sorry at all. You said… you said you don’t have a girl, but you mentioned me. And I… while I’m out here risking my life, what’s one more risk?” Her fingers tremble, and Baekhyun takes her hand, pulling it away from his face to twist his fingers with hers. He means it as some sort of comfort even if he can't respond with the same openness with which she has presented him.

“How scandalous,” he murmurs, winking at her. “A princess liking an enemy of the king?” His heart pounds, and he figures his ears are probably just as red as Hyeran’s cheeks. “You like me- a fucking exile.” He leans back, and whistles softly. “Any chance I had of your daddy-dearest letting me live is fucking gone, y’know?”

Hyeran shoves at his chest, pouting. Baekhyun just laughs, and shoves back at her, burying her under all of the blankets to cover her eyes while he scrambles to his feet and grabs for his clothes. Hyeran shouts in muffled indignation, managing to free her face just as Baekhyun is working to fasten his belt. She ducks back under the covers, one eyes peeking out, and Baekhyun can smirk freely at her watching him, half-hidden gaze lingering on his bare chest.

“Since you’ve given me your mouth, you’ll give me your eyes too?” he teases, snatching up his shirt. Hyeran rolls her eyes.

“It’s cold,” she states, ignoring his question. Baekhyun sighs, walking around and grabbing up pieces of Hyeran’s clothing. He drops down next to her with his bundle of her clothes and his own boots.

“Dress,” he orders. “We shouldn’t stay here much longer.” Hyeran frowns, her eyes flitting from her clothes to Baekhyun’s fingers lacing up his boots. “Hyeran, come on,” he says. “You’re the one who wanted to come out here. Well, now we’re here and you’re going to stay in a fucking cave all day?”

“Can’t you move?” she asks. “Face the other direction.”

“We slept skin to skin, girlie,” Baekhyun reminds. “Does it really fuckin’ matter at this point?”

“It was dark!” Hyeran argues. “And… and I’m asking you. So please.” Baekhyun’s lips tingle with the memory of what transpired directly after the last time she said ‘please’ to him, and he can’t deny her request. He’s not _that_ much of a bit of ratshit.

“I’m just teasing anyway, sweetheart,” Baekhyun tries, even though it sounds weak. He turns away from her and takes his boots with him, working intently on lacing them up his calves so as to ignore the rustle of her dressing and cursing at the cold behind him.

“What would the weather be like up here if we had waited?” Hyeran asks as Baekhyun is tucking the ends of his laces into his boots. “Until spring, like you’d said.”

Baekhyun picks absently at a loose thread on the knee of his trousers. “Not warm,” he answers honestly. “But not fucking storming. Wet, but no ice.” He shrugs and grabs his cloak, tossing it over his shoulders. The fur lining is soft against his neck and the protection ward scripted into the carved gems dangling from the fasteners thrums against his chest. “Still dangerous, princess. This isn’t ever an easy journey.”

“I wouldn’t expect it to be,” Hyeran says. He skirts dance at the corner of Baekhyun’s vision, and he turns to see Hyeran dressed and struggling to pull the top layer of her dress tight. “Or my father wouldn’t make this the challenge for my hand.” She fumbles the ties at the back again. “Fuck.”

“I just really fuckin’ love when you cuss,” Baekhyun tells her. Hyeran just bares her teeth at him, trying and failing again to secure the lacing on her dress. “I can help you,” he offers, pushing himself up to stand. Hyeran stares at him with wide eyes.

“Do you know how?” she asks.

Baekhyun snorts. “It’s just lacing, princess. Not fucking mind magic.” He gestures for her to turn, and she does, presenting her back to him. Carefully, Baekhyun steps up behind her, reaching up to tug lightly on the lacing, securing the thick fabric. Her hair falls over his hands, and he brushes it out of the way, draping it over her shoulder.

“Sorry,” she whispers, threading her fingers through her hair, twisting it into a braid, and Baekhyun is momentarily distracted by her fingers, elegant even when she’s not weaving magic into being. His gaze traces from her hands to her shoulders to the curve of her waist. She’s the perfect height to wrap his arms around and drop his chin on her shoulder. If he wanted to, Baekhyun could lean in right now and kiss the back of her neck. He bites his lip instead. He knots the laces on Hyeran’s dress into the best bow he can manage, laughing at his own pathetic attempt.

“It’s not pretty,” he warns, stepping away. Hyeran tests the ties. “I tried.”

“It’s fine,” Hyeran says. “At least it’s on.” Still she tucks the ties underneath the fabric, hiding them from view. “I just need my cloak.”

“Hurry,” Baekhyun urges. “We’ve got to get to the top before nightfall. There won’t be much shelter higher up, and wandering around in the dark is just asking to get ourselves fucked.” Hyeran pouts, but she fastens her cloak and works on rolling up her blankets, stuffing them into her pack.

Baekhyun pulls out more salted pork before shoving his own blankets into his bag, handing half to Hyeran. “Eat,” he directs. “And perk up. It’s warmer where we’re going.”

Hyeran pauses in the middle of taking a bite. “It’s warmer higher up?” she questions, words muffled around the pork. She’s definitely a slum rat at heart. 

“Dragons, girlie,” Baekhyun explains. “You’ll see.” 

Hyeran looks excited at that, and Baekhyun takes it as his cue to lead the way out of the cave. He turns left, staring up at the trees and snow. The wind isn’t as strong as it was during the first part of their hike, but it’s still biting, nipping at his nose and cheeks. He tugs his hood onto his head and glances back in time to see Hyeran already shivering.

“Come on,” he urges. The princess sets her jaw, taking one large step up the mountain, and Baekhyun would smile if he weren’t slightly concerned his spit is on the verge of freezing in his mouth. He leads the way in silence for a while, humming every so often just to offset the silence of winter. 

“You sing, princess?” he asks, glancing back. The snow clings to Hyeran’s hair and eyelashes. 

“In lessons,” Hyeran answers from just behind him. “Songs of old. The patriot’s march. Nothing… nothing by myself.”

“It’ll keep you warm,” Baekhyun tells her, stepping up onto a rock ledge. He turns and offers his hand to Hyeran. “Swear it.”

The princess narrows her eyes at him, slipping her gloved hand into his just as her footing slips. Baekhyun bites his tongue to keep himself from letting magic slip from his fingers, hauling Hyeran up just enough to help her regain her balance.

“Shit,” Hyeran pants, the flush from the cold suddenly replaced by the white of fear on her face.

“You okay?” Baekhyun keeps hold of her hand, not letting go until she’s standing up on the ledge with him, her boots settled firmly on the ground. She tangles her gloved hands together when he releases her hand, and he considers, for the briefest of moments, taking her hand again.

“Yes,” Hyeran confirms, voice still a little shaky. “I’m fine. Humming, huh?”

Baekhyun lets out a little breathless laugh as she makes her way upward, struggling through the snow. The promise of warmth is the best motivation for this princess, and Baekhyun feels like the more he watches her, teaches and guards her, the deeper he falls for her.

“Yeah. Humming,” he agrees, bemused by Hyeran’s determination to not be deterred or slowed. He likes that about her. He likes a lot about her. He likes that she keeps becoming less and less the princess he would expect the kingdom to have. She’s breaking free of her father’s commands, breaking free of the mould that shapes a princess.

She’s going to make a great queen one day.

Hyeran hums a timid, sweet note, and Baekhyun winks at her.

“‘Atta girl, princess,” he encourages. “Just keep going. Whatever you like.”

“I don’t know much,” Hyeran warns. “I don’t know any but a few.”

“Only a few songs?” Baekhyun can’t imagine that. His mother always sang to him, songs of love and songs of battles fought long ago. She taught him to be creative, to not follow a specific set of sounds, to create his own. His father always encouraged him to hold onto that with his magic too. “That’s fine, girlie,” he soothes. “Just make it up. Like magic. It flows.”

“I doubt it’s that easy,” Hyeran says, lips pursed.

“Try it first,” Baekhyun urges. Hyeran lifts an eyebrow, and Baekhyun makes a ‘go ahead’ gesture with his hands. She responds with another note, following it with a careful melody that Baekhyun doesn’t recognize. Baekhyun grins. “Ratshit you don’t sing,” he tells her, and he laughs at her blush. She’s so fucking cute.

“What about you?” Hyeran asks. Baekhyun nearly trips over a rotted branch. 

“Shit,” he mutters, choosing his next step carefully. “What’d you ask, girlie?”

“Do you sing?” Hyeran clarifies, and Baekhyun shrugs.

“It’s the second bloodydamn best way to keep warm,” he answers vaguely. Hyeran lifts an eyebrow, and Baekhyun waggles his. “Cuddling is the first,” he clarifies.

Hyeran wrinkles her nose and gathers up her skirts again, staring forward with her blush burning bright on her cheeks. “I thought we were just trying to survive without magic,” she sniffs.

“We _are_ surviving without magic, princess,” Baekhyun corrects.

“Is that how life is on the cliffs?” Hyeran asks, and Baekhyun halts in his tracks.

“The cliffs?”

“Where you grew up,” Hyeran emphasizes, waving her hands. “Did you survive like this?”

Baekhyun snorts. “Snuggling?” he asks. Hyeran nods. Baekhyun stares at her. “What do you know about the cliffs?” he asks instead. A little frown turns the corners of Hyeran’s mouth down, and she shrugs.

“It’s far from the kingdom’s walls and cold in winter,” she offers. “It’s land for those exiled from the kingdom.”

“That’s it?” Baekhyun questions.

Hyeran looks confused. “Yes?”

“Fuck,” Baekhyun spits. “I knew you castle pets didn’t know much but bloodydamn. Bloodydamn fuckery.” Hyeran opens her mouth, eyebrows furrowed, looking all the world like she’s ready to protest, but Baekhyun beats her to it. “The cliffs aren’t meant to be survived, princess,” he tells her. “They’re supposed to be a slow grave. You can get lost out there. My mom-” He stops.

“Your mother?”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “It’s nothing. I said nothing.”

“You said your mother-”

“Hyeran,” Baekhyun snaps. The princess freezes, eyes wide and startled, and Baekhyun immediately feels regret for his tempter. “Fuck,” he murmurs. “Just…” He sighs. “It’s nothing.”

“Okay,” Hyeran says, voice quiet and almost timid now. “Then… then, um. The cliffs? You didn’t die?” The shift in the conversation is awkward, and Baekhyun almost declines to say anything at all. The silence, however, presses on his chest.

“Magic,” he answers. “The king knew original magic is strong, but he didn’t know why.”

“What do you mean?” Hyeran asks. She walks a little bit farther away from him now, keeping an arm’s span between them instead of brushing against his shoulder. The distance is making Baekhyun feel really fucking sorry.

“You tell me,” he redirects the question. “Energy for original magic is in what shape?”

Hyeran visibly perks up. “A circle.”

“And where does the energy come from?” he quizzes.

“Yourself,” Hyeran answers. “Or myself. Within.”

“Or?”

Hyeran bites her lip, thinking. “The elements,” she answers after a moment. “The natural energy of the movement of the ground or the air or the sea. The light in fire. The power in a storm. Right?”

Baekhyun makes a clapping motion, the sound muffled by his gloves. “That’s fuckin’ _it_ ,” he agrees. “The cliffs are rock and hard soil constantly attacked by the fucking waves. There’s no bloodydamn limit on the energy there.”

“So you survive,” she muses.

“If you’re determined to,” Baekhyun agrees. He thinks of his mother, of his father and himself. “Then yeah. You do.”

Hyeran ponders this quietly for a moment, and the silence this time is more comfortable. The incline begins to soften, the trek becoming a little easier. In the near distance, Baekhyun can just make out the mountain’s peak and the dragon graveyard. If he closes his eyes, he can almost make out the feeling of dragon magic from when his father brought him here to learn so many years past. He’ll never forget the sensation of raw energy turning to liquid fire, quasi-invincibility, in his veins. In less than a league, he’ll experience that feeling again.

“You really love your family,” Hyeran says suddenly. It almost lilts like a question, but it’s a fact. Baekhyun nods. “Do you miss them?” Hyeran asks.

Baekhyun looks at her. “I can visit my house anytime,” he states, carefully choosing his words.

“But you’ve been with me for so long,” she presses on. “And your family isn’t like my family, right? Your parents love each other, and they love you. And it’s not all politics and strictly regulated interactions, right?” She sounds desperate, voice breathy in the same way it was when she first asked him to teach her magic.

Baekhyun throat feels tight. It’s one thing to teach the princess magic; it’s one thing to lead her to the Word of Dragons. It’s one thing to want her; it’s one thing to love her.

It’s another thing entirely to bare his entire person to her. More than his body, more than his energy, the things he’s been through, the people who raised him and taught him everything he knows are memories he holds close to his heart. He’s learned to keep what makes him _him_ secret to protect his family, to protect himself, and to protect the people he meets within the kingdom walls.

Hyeran wanting to know about him both warms him and terrifies him, and fear is always a powerful motivator to stay hidden.

“Does it really matter?” he returns, voice harsher than he intended. Hyeran flinches.

“Just say yes or no,” she demands.

“I don’t want to fucking talk about it,” Baekhyun retorts. “You keep your secrets, and I’ll keep mine. Remember that?”

“That only works if I still had any secrets,” Hyeran sniffs. “And that’s all over now. That’s why we are out here in the dead of winter right now!” She crosses her arms. “Remember that?”

“I don’t have anything to hide,” Baekhyun tries. “I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s a fucking lie and you know it,” Hyeran snaps at him, voice low and dark. “You’re too obvious, so I know it too. Do you think I’m an idiot?” she demands, taking three large steps to round on Baekhyun. With the steep incline, she stands eye-level with Baekhyun, peering down her nose at him. He glares back at her, swallowing to keep himself from gaping at her sudden show. “Do you?” Hyeran demands again.

“What in the seven? No?”

“Don’t you though?” Hyeran asks. “Because you make all these side comments, and then you brush them off.”

“Hyeran,” Baekhyun starts, matching her tone. “I have nothing to-”

“You won’t talk about your family,” she interrupts. “You won’t talk about you. You start to talk about your mother and then you decide against it. You bring up your family all the time when you’re teaching me something about magic, and then you neglect to explain to me why your family has come up in the conversation.”

“Because it doesn’t matter-”

“It does matter!” Hyeran counters. “It does or you wouldn’t bring it up at all!” Her hands wave with her frustration, and she takes one step back. “You act like I don’t notice, but I listen, Baekhyun. I’m always listening when you’re talking, so it’s easy to notice when you suddenly decide to shut your mouth.”

Baekhyun pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. His breath is white in the cold. “Look. Princess-”

“I just want to know if you think I’m a complete buffoon,” Hyeran states, and she doesn’t look away from his face, staring him down and making him feel half her size.

Baekhyun shakes his head. “Trust me, princess,” he says in the most soothing tone he can muster. “That’s the last thing I think about you.”

“Do you not trust me?”

The chill in the air cannot hope to compare to the chill in Baekhyun’s chest when he hears the devastation in Hyeran’s voice. “I-” he starts, but he doesn’t have anything to say.

“I trust you,” Hyeran whispers. “I trust you so much that I came all the way out here with some strange man to find some stone that has been the death of knights and magic-users with years of training. I trust you, and I don’t even _know_ you.” She crosses her arms, angling her chin a little higher so she can look down the slope of her nose at Baekhyun. Baekhyun tries to match her stare, but there’s something in her demeanor that breaks him down far too easily. Maybe it’s her status; more than likely, it’s the shame Baekhyun feels for not being entirely honest with her.

“You know enough,” Baekhyun finally says, looking over her shoulder. They’re a mere twenty steps away from the graveyard entrance.

“That’s not fair,” Hyeran says in a near whine, pouting. “What about you is so dangerous that you can’t tell me?”

“I’m used to keeping secrets,” Baekhyun tries, brushing past Hyeran and taking her by her wrist. “Just get used to that about me.” He marches forward, practically dragging Hyeran along behind him. The princess digs the heels of her boots into the ground, trying to stop him. She stumbles, and Baekhyun halts to steady her, cursing under his breath that he’s fallen so far he can’t watch her be hurt at all.

“But why?” Hyeran asks. 

“Just shut the fuck up, princess,” Baekhyun growls. “Stop asking questions I’m not going to answer.”

“You’re such a piece of ratshit,” Hyeran fumes, and Baekhyun gives her the most saccharine smile, his jaw set. “Why?” she demands, and Baekhyun nearly snarls at her, spinning around so that it’s him standing over her this time. She meets his gaze easily, her lips in a thin line and eyes sharp.

“To protect me,” he allows. “To protect my papa. Jongdae. Every fucking person I’ve dragged into my shit. _You._ ” He sighs, energy welling in his with his frustration and burning underneath his skin. He can’t let it out here. He has to stay calm to keep her safe, but she’s making it awfully difficult. 

“I’m not going to let any of them be hurt,” Hyeran declares. “I’m to be Queen. I can ensure that nothing happens to any of them if you just _tell_ me-”

“That’s exactly the issue, princess,” Baekhyun spits. Bile sits at the back of his throat, and his stomach churns. “At the end of the day, you’re the fucking queen-to-be, and I’m a bloodydamn exile. You can’t change that. We’re never going to stand on the same side of the fucking battlements, and that’s just how is fucking is.”

Hyeran’s eyes finally flicker away from Baekhyun’s, and when she blinks, he sees a tear slip down her cheek, out of place against her strong stance and demanding aura.

“Fuck,” Baekhyun whispers.

Hyeran’s lower lip trembles, but her voice is still even, dropping to a tone that reminds Baekhyun of the snow blowing around them. “You really don’t trust me at all,” she states. She laughs once, the sound humorless. It sends a stake of regret into Baekhyun’s chest.

“Hyeran…” he starts.

“Be quiet,” Hyeran speaks, and Baekhyun’s mouth clamps closed. Her eyes are red, frown shaky, and that’s enough to make Baekhyun sick with guilt. He didn’t mean to hurt her, but he did. His words were careless and his pride too much.

Hyeran breathes in, closing her eyes for a brief moment. When she speaks again, it’s not the princess’ with an authoritative tone that speaks but the young woman Baekhyun adores.

“Do you really think I think so terribly of you?” she inquires. She doesn’t give pause for Baekhyun to respond, continuing on with her hands clasped in front of her. “I don’t see you as an exile. I know what my father never bothered to learn: that you’re good and so is your magic. I’m not going to become queen and leave you to suffer in exile. I don’t want to hurt you like that.” She stops, but Baekhyun doesn’t speak, just watches her. A tiny sob escapes her, and he aches to reach out, to say he’s sorry. Pride is a terrible thing. “I thought,” she sniffs, working her voice around the cries she’s working hard to keep back. Her hood falls from her head, her hair blowing out in the wind. If she cries, Baekhyun will break. “I thought you knew… it’s obvious, I thought. That I… what I…” She takes a moment to breathe. “You are… I really-”

Baekhyun cracks. He steps in and grabs her, pulling her against him. “Shh,” he murmurs against her hair. “I know. I do know. I just-”

“I want you to just trust me,” Hyeran whispers, fists against his chest, mittens gripping the fabric of his cloak. WIth those words, Baekhyun is reminded again just how young she is, and he pulls her in tighter when he thinks of how far she’s come.

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun tells her. “I’m so sorry I’m fucked up. I’m an exile, Hyeran. The crown has never been something I can look to for _anything._ And you’re… you’re the princess.”

“But I’m not _them,_ ” Hyeran pleads. “I’m _me._ You know me.” She looks up at him, and if Baekhyun could just let himself give into her, if only it were as easy as she makes it sound, he would tilt his head down to kiss her, to tell her he loves her.

He can’t do that.

He rests his cheek against the top of her head instead, and whispers that he’s sorry again. Hyeran shakes her head, pressing against his chest, and Baekhyun thinks his heart might be lying in two pieces in his chest as she draws away.

“Let’s just go,” Hyeran murmurs, stepping around Baekhyun and walking forward. She pulls her hood back over her head, effectively blocking herself entirely from Baekhyun’s view.

“Ratshit,” he mutters to himself. He follows quietly behind Hyeran, drawing as close as he dares. The spirits of sleeping dragons press against his lungs, and Baekhyun wonders if Hyeran can feels this too. He doesn’t ask.

A barrier of stone rises in front of them, covered in a blanket of mist. An opening two people wide arches in their direct path, and Hyeran pauses in front of it.

“We’re here,” Baekhyun announces. Hyeran glances back at him.

“I want to go alone,” she says.

Fear and ice are interchangeable in Baekhyun’s blood. “No-” he tries.

“Don’t tell me I can’t,” Hyeran orders. Baekhyun licks nervously at his lips. She’s earned this request from him after what he said to her, but everything in him still hates this. “This is my quest,” Hyeran adds.

“I came to help you,” Baekhyun says.

“You have helped me,” Hyeran tells him, and she’s not about to budge. “I’m here alive, aren’t I? But this part… this is something I have to do on my own.” She takes another step forward, and the mist shrouds her where she stands under the arch.

“Hyeran,” Baekhyun begins, but he can’t stop her from going. He’s not going to ignore her wishes so blatantly and just follow her. He falters. “No magic,” he reminds her. Hyeran flicks her hood off her head.

“It’s not any warmer up here,” she says. It sounds an awful lot like ‘fuck you.’ Hyeran strides forward, and Baekhyun’s heart thuds against his ribs as her silhouette disappears into the graveyard. He tries to force his heart to calm, his breathing to steady. The second Hyeran is out of his sight is the same second that Baekhyun realizes just how much he fears the power on this mountain.

“Please,” he whispers, and he’s not sure if he’s begging her to be safe or the spirits of the dragons to leave her alone. “Please. Please, please, please, _please_.”

The mist stays still and thick, undisturbed. He wishes he could reach out with his magical presence and find Hyeran behind the barrier, but that would only alert the dragons of her presence. That would only endanger her.

“Ratshit,” he swears. “Fucking _please,_ Hyeran. Don’t do anything stupid.” He walks up as close to the arch as he can without disturbing the mist. He can’t see anything through it, and he won’t be able to unless he actually were to walk through the gray barrier. He listens as closely as he can for Hyeran to say anything, for any sort of sign that she’s okay to reach him over the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. 

A flicker of light, a blend of yellow and blue, dragon and human magic, crackles through the mist, and a magic that Baekhyun remembers from over a decade ago when his father brought him here reaches him. Baekhyun clamps down hard on his own magic, holding it within himself, not letting any escape in his exhale. He can’t react to this force of power, but he grins despite himself.

Hyeran found it. The Word of Dragons.

Another surge of power follows the first, this one a pale blue that Baekhyun has seen dance on slim fingertips in the quiet of the princess’ chambers, and his heart skips a beat.

Hyeran’s magic.

Yellow light screams into the sky alongside a roar that lights the mist on fire, the heat of the flames scalding against Baekhyun’s face.

“Fuck,” he shouts, and he dives forward, running into the graveyard after Hyeran. The sound of wings beating the flames chases him, and Hyeran’s voice spirals into a scream. Another roar echoes off the sky, and Baekhyun’s body thrums with the dragon magic, the magic that came before original magic guiding him. The flames around him do not burn him, but the burn on his side from his mother’s death prickles with the memory of the pain of magical wounds. “Hyeran!” he screams, still holding tightly to his own magic. If he lets it go, the flames will attack him too, and he can’t defend himself from them if his defensive magic accidentally puts Hyeran deeper in danger.

“Baekhyun!” Hyeran’s scream comes from somewhere up and to his right, and Baekhyun runs that way without hesitation, ignoring the echo of it from his left. He knows the games the air in the mountain plays, and he knows the tricks of magic. He barrels through another wall of flames, and Hyeran is there, kneeling on the ground, her cloak in smoking tatters on the ground and the hem of her dress singed. The Word of Dragons is cradled in her arms, yellow and blue spinning around it. The pedestal where it sat lays in ruins on the ground over Hyeran’s ankle.

“Hyeran,” Baekhyun breathes, and she looks up at him, tears streaked down her face.

“Baekhyun-” she starts, gasping on a sob. Unadulterated fear pours through Baekhyun’s veins, and his careful control of his magic shakes. The fire surges up with a furious roar, the dragons breathing the flames to life sensing his presence. Baekhyun doesn’t hesitate. He throws himself forward, covering Hyeran’s body with his own, and he breathes, lifting his careful control and peeling back his holds.

Baekhyun’s magic explodes out from him, throwing the fire back. Blue presses against the yellow, and the roars of dragons fill the mist until it’s nothing but black smoke. Dragon speech assaults Baekhyun’s ears, creeping through his magic and biting into his skin. The words demand to know who he is, demands Hyeran’s blood and life.

Baekhyun will willingly travel through the seven before he lets Hyeran die.

“ _Stop_!” he screams back at the spirits of dragons long dead in their own language. “You know me!” Hyeran saying the same thing, begging him to trust her, flashes through his mind, and his magic falters. A tongue of flame licks along the back of his neck in his weakness, and Baekhyun twists, pulling Hyeran down out of the way with him.

They crash hard to the ground, and Baekhyun’s shoulder glances off the ruins of the pedestal. It tears through his cloak and digs into his skin. He grits his teeth and holds Hyeran tighter, keeping her back from landing on the jagged stone.

“I didn’t mean to,” Hyeran is saying, fear shaking her voice as she pushes herself up on her knees. “I didn’t- I-” She’s barely intelligible, clinging to him, letting him pull them back to their feet. “I don’t- it just-” Her fingers are red with burns from the fire, and she stumbles on her injured ankle. She’s hurt, and Baekhyun aches. 

He let this happen. 

“The stone just- I couldn’t-!” She cuts out with another scream as the dragons roar again, their word for death sung in a harsh scream. Yellow magic rushes toward them from the vague outline of a spirit, and Baekhyun shoves Hyeran behind him. She tumbles to the ground, screaming his name. Baekhyun forces himself to keep his balance, facing the attack head on with his arms crossed.

His magic spins in front of him, blue clashing with yellow. Baekhyun draws on every energy source he can, but his body is human. He’s not meant to withstand the power of a dragon. His vision blurs, but he presses harder, tries to breathe despite the blood dripping from his nose. His shoulder screams in protest, pain coursing up his neck and dragging on his body.

“Stop!” he coughs, his dragon speech slurred in his exhaustion. “Recognize me!” The yellow magic relents the slightest bit. The vague outline of the dragon spirits hover over him with malice still held in the magic on their breaths. “You know me!”

The dragon at the head of the party rears its head back, and the magic in its mouth spins.

Desperation grips Baekhyun by the throat, and he grabs for his thigh, snatching the knife the he keeps strapped there from its holster.

“Baekhyun, what-?” Hyeran starts, coughing on the smoke from the flames. She drops the Word of Dragons in favor of grabbing for his wrist.

“Stay down,” Baekhyun orders her, almost forgetting to switch to the common tongue so she can understand, and he drops his magical shield, letting the yellow magic consume the air around them. He braces himself. “Chen,” he prays to his ancestor, “please protect her.”

Baekhyun slashes his knife through his arm, blood spilling from his wrist. For the dragons to recognize the diluted dragon blood that he carries as in veins as a sign of his heritage will take a lot, and if they don’t recognize it, he’ll die. He and Hyeran will both die. They’re dead anyway.

“Baekhyun!” Hyeran screams, stumbling to her feet. She grabs for him, holding her weight on one foot. She closes her fingers over his wrist, but the bleeding can’t be stopped by such futile efforts.

Through heavy eyelids, Baekhyun looks at her. “Trust me,” he pants, and pulls his arm from her hold.

“Recognize me!” he pleads again. “A son of Chen!” He grits his teeth and drags the blade through his other wrist. His blood soaks the ground and stains his and Hyeran’s clothes. She sobs, and it blends with the roar of the flames. “Please,” Baekhyun begs.

One of the spirits dips down closer, and Hyeran shrinks back behind Baekhyun. Baekhyun locks his knees to keep himself upright, holding out his hand toward the dragon’s snout. The dragon rears back, fury glowing in its image, and Baekhyun tries to gather the last of his strength. It won’t be enough to stop the dragon’s next attack, but he has to at least _try._

The roar builds in the dragon’s throat, spinning with deadly intent, and Baekhyun wishes he could have had the chance to at least tell Hyeran he loves her.

Hyeran buries her face in his back, arms wrapped around his waist, and a second roar joins the first. The knife clatters to the ground.

Baekhyun’s eyes slip closed.

The wind moves, and Baekhyun feels the last attack release from the dragon’s mouth explode upward into the sky. His eyes snap open, and he chokes on the smoke in front of him in his shock, watching one of the other dragon spirits attack the first. Its roar contains a word that Baekhyun hasn’t heard spoken since the last time he came to this mountain.

“ _Dragonborn!_ ” the spirit bellows, jaws clamped around the neck of Baekhyun’s attacker. “ _He’s dragonborn!_ ” The other spirits all seem to gasp, drawing back their magic. Their roars die, voices starting to hum low in their chests instead. Their eyes glow with curiosity, and Baekhyun fights to breathe at all. He’s lost too much blood. His legs shake under him.

“Fuck,” he whispers. He falls to his knees, and Hyeran crashes down with him.

“No,” she chants, her voice shaking. “No, no, no- Baekhyun!” She wraps an arm around his shoulders, propping him up against her. The dragon who had saved them flies over them, dropping slowly down. Hyeran trembles harder the nearer it gets, her magic stuttering with her terrified breathing.

“Get away!” she screams at the dragon, but Baekhyun manages to shake his head. Even amidst the fires burning through the graveyard, he feels cold. He can’t sense the magic sparking on Hyeran’s fingers at all.

“Let it,” he mouths more than he speaks. Everything is dark, outlines fuzzy. He tries to meet the dragon’s eyes, but his body is refusing to follow his commands.

“Baekhyun…” Hyeran whispers, pulling him in tighter against her chest. She trembles as the dragon lowers itself to the ground, nosing forward to sniff along Baekhyun’s leg and over Hyeran’s dress where his blood has soaked through. The dragon’s tongue snakes over Baekhyun’s wrist, and its eyes soften.

“ _My son_ ,” the dragon murmurs. Its tongue passes over Baekhyun’s wrist again, and then the other, leaving behind unmarred skin. _“Be whole, my son_.” The dragon touches its enormous nose to Baekhyun’s forehead, and energy floods his body. His vision focuses. His heart thrums in his chest. Magic chants in delight under his skin. Baekhyun breathes in, and on his exhale, the flames calm, drawing back with the dragon.

“ _Dragonborn_ ,” the spirits echo, their voices following one after the other until they seem to have become a song of welcome. The flames fade and the glare of yellow magic softens into the light of the sun breaking through the oppressive mist. Beside Baekhyun, Hyeran gasps.

Starting from where Baekhyun’s and Hyeran’s weight crushes the snow, the winter wasteland is chased away with the spread of spring. Grass grows and flowers bloom. The pedestal lifts from its shattered state and rearranges itself. Clouds soar overhead, and the warmth of the sun is bliss against Baekhyun’s face. He sits up, getting carefully to his feet. He feels better than he did before they started this quest, his body healed and reinvigorated with the dragon’s magic.

“ _Dragonborn_ ,” the dragons sing. “ _A dragonborn has come home!_ ”

“What are they saying?” Hyeran asks, letting Baekhyun pull her to her own feet. She wobbles. “What happened? Why did they stop?” Hyeran holds tight to Baekhyun’s arm, smearing his own blood on her hands onto freshly healed skin. It adds to his already stained and torn sleeves, but Baekhyun hardly cares or even notices with the dragons still singing. Their voices resonate through the graveyard, singing spring into the air. The sun glances off of the incorporeal image of the dragons flying overhead, scattering the light onto dappled ground. Baekhyun is mesmerized.

It’s been so long since he was here and even longer since he last heard the voices of the dragon spirits. In its pure, original form, dragon speech hovers somewhere between talking and singing, the words sliding along a scale that the human voice cannot replicate.

“Dragonborn,” Baekhyun whispers alongside the dragons’ song. His voice sounds so rough in comparison to their gentle intonations. Hyeran’s grip on his arm tightens, and Baekhyun glances at her, watching her eyebrows draw down on her face. In common tongue, he repeats, “Dragonborn.”

“Dragonborn,” Hyeran echoes Baekhyun. The syllables are jarring against the otherworldly echoes of dragon speech, and it jerks Baekhyun from his trance. “Dragonborn,” Hyeran repeats. “You’re dragonborn. That’s… that’s why you-” Her fingers tap on his unmarred wrist. “Is that what you tried to tell them?” she asks. “That’s why you cut yourself!” Her eyes flash from Baekhyun’s face to the images of the dragons. “What if they hadn’t recognized you? You would have bled to death, and I-”

“You’d be dead as fuck too,” Baekhyun interrupts. “I fuckin’ told you I would keep you safe, didn’t I?” Hyeran nods, wobbling as she holds her balance with only one foot and her hands on Baekhyun’s arm. “Sit down,” he encourages, guiding her to the ground. “Let me look at it.”

The dragons fly overhead, singing, the wind of their passing ruffling Baekhyun and Hyeran’s torn clothes. The ends of Hyeran’s hair dance around her, partially hiding her wince as Baekhyun carefully unties the lacing on her boot. She hisses when he pulls the stiff leather away.

“This won’t hurt,” he promises and sets a hand over the obvious break in her bone. Hyeran flinches anyway, but then her eyes go round. Baekhyun breathes, and the dragon energy spins and dances through his body, expelled in gentle blue that wraps around Hyeran’s broken ankle and eases the bones back into place and stitches the torn skin together. Baekhyun waits a moment after he’s sure she’s healed to draw his hand away. He puts his hands on his knees to push himself up and offers Hyeran his hand. “Try that.”

Carefully, Hyeran sets some weight on her foot and takes Baekhyun’s hand. He draws her up to stand with him, pulling her against him. He doesn’t need to be this close to her; he can see she’s alive and breathing. He feels like his needs to be right against her to convince himself that she really is fine, and he doesn’t mind her fingers digging into his shoulders while she carefully tests out her ankle.

“I didn’t know you could heal like this,” she says with a giggle that Baekhyun thinks is one part awe and another part pure relief at being alive. She looks up at Baekhyun. “Is that something only dragonborns can do?”

Baekhyun shakes his head, wrapping his arms around her waist just because he can. She’s warm against him, and in the warmth of the graveyard lit by dragon magic, he’s starting to sweat. It’s a welcome change from the frigid air they walked through to get here. “I’ll teach you soon,” he promises. Hyeran smiles and nods, letting go of him. Baekhyun swallows back his displeasure as she steps back from him.

“Your clothes are a mess,” she says.

“Yours too,” Baekhyun returns, looking pointedly at her burned and stained dress. Hyeran looks down too and holds up fingers dancing with original magic.

“Can I…?”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun encourages. “You’re safe now.” Hyeran looks positively thrilled to be able to fix her own clothes with her magic, and Baekhyun almost misses the dragons’ singing cutting out into murmurs of confusion with how much he’s focusing on Hyeran.

“ _A daughter?_ ” the dragon who had saved them sings in question. Others follow.

“ _Our son’s magic,_ ” they agree, “ _but not dragonborn._ ” The spirits all settle on the ground, their massive paws crushing the grass as if their bodies still had read weight. Hyeran startles from mending the edge of her cloak.

“Baekhyun,” she whispers, glancing at the dragons now surrounding them. “What-?”

“Fix my clothes too,” Baekhyun urges her. “Show them your magic.”

Hyeran looks left and right, nervous, but she still sets her shoulders and walks up to Baekhyun. Blue lights on her skin, and Baekhyun’s blood dried on her hands is wiped away as if it was never there in the first place. The dragons all murmur, and Hyeran’s magic stutters with her breath as she lifts her hands to fix the sleeves of his shirt. 

“They’re confused,” Baekhyun explains, watching Hyeran mend his shirt and draw the blood from the fabric. 

“Why?” Hyeran flicks her fingers, and Baekhyun’s cluff closes around his wrist. 

“They know you’re not dragonborn,” Baekhyun explains. “But you’re using original magic.”

“ _She’s our son’s bride,_ ” one of the dragons says, startling a laugh from Baekhyun. Recognition fills the dragon song. “ _This son of Chen’s son and a human woman._ ” The phrase is familiar to Baekhyun. It’s the same thing they said to him when he was a mere ten-years-of-age and standing before them with his father and mother at his side. His mother confused them much the same way Hyeran does: a human without any dragonblood using original magic.

“What’s funny?” Hyeran demands, whisking the last of the bloodstains from Baekhyun’s pants. “What are they saying?”

“ _A daughter!_ ” the dragons cheer. Baekhyun shakes his head.

“They’re calling you my bride,” he translates.

Hyeran’s nose wrinkles, and she recoils. “What?” she nearly screeches. “Your… your _bride_?” Baekhyun just laughs harder.

“I taught you my magic,” he explains vaguely. “That’s why they think that.”

“I am _not_ your wife,” she hisses. Baekhyun flings a hand in her direction, throwing a mass of his own magic at her. Hyeran’s eyes widen, but she catches it on reflex anyway, twirling the energy around her body before throwing it back. The dragons cheer, yelling out approval and congratulations.

“Tough fucking luck convincing them of that,” Baekhyun says with a nod towards the dragons. “They’re congratulating us.” And even though the dragons hadn’t mentioned anything of the sort, he adds, “They want to know if you’re pregnant.”

Hyeran’s cheeks turn a furious shade of red with her blush. “I- we didn’t even-!” She cuts herself off with a frustrated noise and throws poorly aimed energy at Baekhyun. He catches it anyway and sends it back to her. 

“What does my magic have to do with me being your bride?” Hyeran demands.

Baekhyun immediately closes his mouth, but their earlier argument rings in his ears. She already knows he’s dragonborn, but actually admitting to what him teaching her magic means in the family he was raised in terrifies him. “There’s a book at Papa’s house,” he answers vaguely. “I’ll show you sometime.”

Hyeran sighs. “I don’t know why I even asked,” she mutters, her frustration plain in the set of her shoulders. “You aren’t going to tell me anything, anyway.” She brushes past Baekhyun, making her way over to the pedestal where the Word of Dragons sits. “I doubt this book even exists, if I’m honest with you.”

Baekhyun swallows and forces down his pride. “I’ve been here before,” he admits suddenly. Hyeran halts a mere three steps from the pedestal and waits. “My father brought me here when I was a kid to study magic.” Hyeran turns slowly, watching him. Baekhyun takes a step toward her. “He refused to use common speak with me, forcing me to learn dragon speech.” He steps in close to Hyeran, close enough to touch her. “When the dragon spirits woke up from your unfamiliar presence, I told them that they know me. I hoped they would recognize me and leave you alone.” Hyeran frowns, and Baekhyun shrugs. “It’s been so long since I was last here, I guess I’d changed too much.”

“So you nearly killed yourself instead,” Hyeran states, and she worries her lower lip, looking at Baekhyun’s wrists as if they’re about to split apart again. Baekhyun holds up a hand and snaps his fingers. The knife he left on the ground flits up into his hold, and he slips it back into the sheath on his leg. 

“This is your quest, princess,” he tells her. “I’ll do anything to make sure you succeed.”

“Even die?” Hyeran asks, and Baekhyun doesn’t answer. He thinks his actions earlier speak louder than any verbal confirmation could. He doesn’t tell Hyeran that even if he had to bled out, if that was what if took for the dragon’s to recognize him as a dragonborn and call off their attack, he would have done it for her to keep on living. 

Hyeran looks thoughtful. “That’s the most about you that you have ever shared with me,” Hyeran whispers.

“I don’t trust easily,” Baekhyun speaks the obvious. “But you…” He shakes his head. “Bloodydamn _you_.”

“What about me?” Hyeran breathes in question, leaning in close to Baekhyun. “Tell me.”

“There’s just something about you,” Baekhyun confesses. It’s vague, doesn’t really mean much, but Hyeran still grins all the same.

“I’ll wait,” she promises. “When you’re ready to tell me everything, then I’ll listen.” The scariest thing about her saying that is that Baekhyun really does _want_ to tell her everything, but his instincts scream against it. She’s still the queen-to-be. 

Baekhyun just nods.

“Are you ready to go?” he asks, gesturing at the Word of Dragons.

Hyeran glances at the stone and then at the dragons. “Are you sure I can just… take it?”

“They see you as my bride, and I’m dragonborn,” Baekhyun reminds her. “In their minds, by right, the stone belongs to me. To us.” Hyeran gives a very solemn nod and sets her mouth into a line. She still hesitates as she reaches out to take the Word of Dragons from the pedestal. It flashes yellow and blue under her touch, and despite her caution, the dragons make no move to stop her as she lifts it from its place.

“What now?” she asks, tucking it under her arm.

“Now we go prove to your dear, ratshit king that you’re better than all the knights in his castle,” Baekhyun says. He points towards the graveyard’s arching entryway. “Go that way. I’ll be right behind you.”

Hyeran looks at him for a long moment, shifting her feet under her.

“Trust me,” Baekhyun implores, heart-breaking with how fully her eyes tell him she does.

“I do,” Hyeran whispers. She still looks back every few steps, but Baekhyun doesn’t move, just watching her go. When the mist guarding the edges of the graveyard has closed behind her, he clears his throat and takes a breath, working his voice into the best semblance of dragon song as he can manage.

“I’m bringing it back,” he promises the dragon spirits. “I swear it in Chen’s name.”

“ _Chen,_ ” the dragons echo. They all seem to waver in the sunlight, and then they fade into the mist around the graveyard. The spring shifts to summer and then fall in the span of a few heartbeats, returning to the harsh winter. Baekhyun draws his hood back over his head and whispers warmth into his hands with his magic.

Hyeran is waiting for him, trusting him, and Baekhyun has already promised his ancestor’s teachers that he will steal the stone back from her. He’ll wait until she’s crowned queen, but after that, the Word of Dragons will have no place in the palace. 

He just hopes she’ll understand his betrayal.

Baekhyun works his face back into a pleasant expression before he makes it out of the graveyard to see Hyeran waiting for him, the stone tucked away in her pack. 

“Are you sad to go?” she asks. “I mean, _dragons._ ”

“I can visit them any time,” Baekhyun dismisses.

“Like your family,” Hyeran says. Baekhyun doesn’t answer, but the princess just nods. “I suppose being a dragonborn makes the dragons your family in some way.” She freezes. “Wait. Are the spirits what you meant when-?”

“Fuck no,” Baekhyun stops her before her imagination can go too far. “I’ve mentioned Papa, haven’t I?” Hyeran nods, sheepish, and an idea creeps into Baekhyun’s mind and takes over before he can really rationalize it. He takes Hyeran’s hand. “Do you want to go somewhere for a while? Before you go back to the palace?”

Hyeran’s fingers curl around his own, and he shares some of his warmth with her, the magic bouncing back and forth between them. Now that the dragons know who they are, they’re safe to use magic freely, and Baekhyun loves watching blue sparks light on Hyeran’s cheeks. “Where?” She tilts her head, a bit of excitement lending a breathless quality to her voice.

Baekhyun points off into the distant horizon. “The cliffs,” he answers. “You haven’t seen the sea before, right?”

Hyeran leans against him, tucking herself against his shoulder, fingers laced with his. “I’ll go anywhere you want to take me,” she says. Her tone is light, but her grip is tight. She’s serious, and Baekhyun’s heart thuds in his chest, feeling full to the point of bursting into shattered pieces.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he says, tugging on her hand to guide her back towards the stream where they left the horses. “Let this ratshit exile make your bloodydamn father fucking hate him even more.” Hyeran laughs her agreement, and it feels good to make her laugh, to make her happy, to have her with him.

Baekhyun hopes Hyeran doesn’t see the concern on his face as he steals as many moments with her as he can before she returns.

*

The horses stamp their hooves in greeting when Baekhyun and Hyeran make their way down the last of the steep sides of the mountain to the softer, rolling hills.

“Whoa,” Baekhyun calls, reaching out to soothe his hands down the stallion’s neck. The horse calms, knocking his nose against Baekhyun’s shoulder and snorting softly against Hyeran’s hands when she moves to take the stallion’s reins from Baekhyun. He cups his hands without question, and Hyeran steps into them, letting him boost her up.

“Don’t worry,” Baekhyun hears her whisper to the horse when she’s settled astride his back. “We’re not going back to the kingdom just yet.” The stallion tosses his head and takes a few steps, and Hyeran laughs. The sound is bright; Baekhyun would even dare to call it relieved. He unties the mare’s reins, walking her a few paces to stand beside the stallion. She tugs on his hold, and Baekhyun stands in front of her, running his knuckles down the stripe on her face.

“Easy,” he murmurs. “Easy, girl. Easy.” He pulls himself up and swings his legs over the mare’s back, digging his heels into her sides. Hyeran urges the stallion forward, catching up to Baekhyun’s mare. Together, they trot down the hills, Baekhyun leading them back to the plains. When the grasslands stretch out ahead of them, Baekhyun flicks his fingers in Hyeran’s direction, catching her attention.

“Keep your focus, girlie,” he says, and he sends a bit of energy her way, watching the blue glow under the gray winter sunlight. Hyeran catches it only too easily, and Baekhyun grins, kicking his mare into a sprint across the planes. Hyeran yells indignantly after him, and Baekhyun feels more than he sees her fling the magic back his way. He catches it without looking, waiting for only a few strong strides of the his horse to pass before he throws it back. 

They can’t run for long at this speed; the horses will tire. But the wind throws Baekhyun’s hood back from his face, and the magic crackles over his fingers with as much excitement as he can see on Hyeran’s face. Her hair, long and tangled, whips back behind her, and for a moment, Baekhyun doesn’t see a princess at all.

She would make the most stunning exile if only they could stay out here forever.

“Baekhyun!” Hyeran calls, and Baekhyun watches her snatch the energy of the wind from the air and shape it into a semblance of wings behind her. She spreads her arms, and if he ignores that she’s riding a horse, it looks like she’s flying. His heart skips a beat.

“Not too fuckin’ shabby, princess,” Baekhyun tells her, and her bright, pleased laugh shimmers in the falling sun. Baekhyun’s mare starts to slow, and the stallion alongside her. “We won’t make it much further today,” he says, tugging the mare’s reins to ease her into a trot. Her sides heave.

“There’s nothing out here,” Hyeran points out, looking around the planes. Nothing but frost, snow, and long grasses is out here. Baekhyun shrugs, and Hyeran gapes at him. “Are you planning on us sleeping out here?”

“You’re bloodydamn right, I am,” Baekhyun says. They trot another few paces before Baekhyun brings his horse to a halt and swings himself down. “I’ve done this before, girlie.” He steps up beside Hyeran’s horse and offers her a hand.

Hyeran doesn’t look particularly convinced, but she takes Baekhyun’s hand anyway. She slides easily to the ground, steady on her feet. She gets this mischievous look in her eyes, and that’s Baekhyun’s only warning before she suddenly trips and falls into him. He stumbles back, her hands on his shoulders and his on her upper arms. “What the fuck are you doing?” he whispers. Hyeran gives a noncommittal shrug. Baekhyun could trip them the rest of the way to the ground, could press her underneath him and kiss her, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to destroy her trust.

He ignores the inevitability of that idea.

“My birthday is the third day of the year,” Hyeran reminds him like that’s any sort of answer. She looks up at him, and her fingers reach up to brush his hair from his eyes.

“Mine is the sixth of the fifth month,” Baekhyun says. “Do you think yours is any more special than mine, princess?”

Hyeran huffs her lack of amusement at him. “What I mean to say,” she starts, dragging out each word, “is that I need to be back at the palace at that time.” She’s so close, and her eyes are so pretty, sparkling with magic. “Before then, I have nowhere more important to be than here.” She doesn’t say with you, and maybe it’s Baekhyun’s wishful thinking, but he hears it anyway.

“Out here on the bloodydamn plains,” Baekhyun muses. “In between the cliffs and the kingdom. You’ve reached the fucking middle of nowhere, sweetheart.” He lets go of her and steps back to spread his arms, showing off the gray nothing around them. He sweeps his arm down in a dramatic bow. “Welcome.”

“I think it’s wonderful,” Hyeran says. “I can breathe out here.” The look in her eyes is distant, but Baekhyun doesn’t ask after it. She’s lived in the castle her entire life, seen the same sky day after day. She smiles up at the pastel sunset. “I can just enjoy being away now, I think.” Hyeran speaks softly, the words private even if she says them loud enough for Baekhyun to hear. “Finding the stone was the goal, but now that I have it I can just… _be_ here.” The wind ruffles her hair and spins the hem of her dress around her ankles, making her look like she belongs exactly where she stands.

Baekhyun loves it.

Something akin to pride swells in his chest, and his fingers itch with the need to feel magic under and over his skin. A grin steals onto his face. He hasn’t gotten to _really_ show off his magic to Hyeran before, but right now seems to be the perfect chance. 

“You wanna see some real magic, girlie?” he asks, and Hyeran’s curiously crooked eyebrow is confirmation enough for him. He inhales, letting the magic spin to life within him, crashing through the barriers that hide his magical presence so that he can fully feel everything around him. The wind and the ground and the slight fall of snow all contain power that Baekhyun breathes into himself and exhales with a new purpose.

He holds his breath, and the wind seems to hold its too, the snow suspended around them.

Hyeran’s eyes are wide and amazed, and Baekhyun is so ready to show off. He hasn’t gotten to do this in a while, and he can taste exhilaration coupled with the tang of adrenaline. When he lets himself access his power as completely as he can like this, he thinks this is what being a god would be like. He exhales, and the snow clears from the ground, the dead grasses turning green and lush with his next few breaths.

The clouds split overhead, opening up a window to the darkening sky. The stars peek through, and the sparks of Baekhyun’s magic dance with them. He opens his arms wide, whispering directions to the wind to build a barrier around them, keeping them safe from the sting of winter.

Across from him, Hyeran murmurs into her hands, and when she opens her fists, fire dances across her palms.

“For warmth,” she offers, and Baekhyun copies her gesture, cupping fire in his own hands.

“Pass it to me,” he requests, and Hyeran lifts the fire into the air, hands outstretched to suspend the fire between them.

“Add it to mine,” she counters, and Baekhyun grins. He can do more with his magic than Hyeran can, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t a quick learner, doesn’t mean she’s not worthy of the title of original magic-user. Baekhyun gives his flames a little more energy, a little more heat, turning them a bright blue. He twists them around Hyeran’s flames, and he’s enraptured by the orange and blue glow cast across her face and reflected in her eyes.

She’s beautiful. It stuns him every time.

“It’s warm,” Hyeran comments, relaxing her control over the fire. Baekhyun takes a moment to lock the flames in place, letting their heat wash through the ward he made from wind. “A summer night in the middle of winter.”

“I’ll teach you sometime,” Baekhyun promises. He unfastens his cloak and drapes it across the ground like a blanket, plopping down. He rests his wrists on his knees and revels in the sensation of using magic so openly.

“Teach me something now,” Hyeran requests. She unties her own cloak and sets it aside, settling down next to Baekhyun. She sits close, close enough for Baekhyun to feel her warmth against his side, and he curls his hand into a fist to keep from wrapping an arm around her waist. Hyeran looks at him, waiting, and Baekhyun feels drawn into her.

He won’t give in. His desires are secondary to Hyeran’s comfort and trust.

“The horses need water,” Baekhyun says after a moment of contemplation. “But I’ll let you figure out for yourself how to get that.”

Hyeran grumbles under her breath, and Baekhyun nearly jolts out of his skin when she taps her fingers on his knee while she thinks. He watches the crease between her eyebrows deepen and her eyes scan the small area of green grass. She looks up to the sky and then to the snowy lands around them.

“I see,” she whispers. She looks at Baekhyun. “Watch me,” she directs as if Baekhyun were looking anywhere else. Her hands look especially powerful and particularly elegant when she brings her magic to the surface, and the snow outside of Baekhyun’s ward spins and dances as she draws it through the barrier. Her technique isn’t perfect, accidentally drawing water from the grass inside the ward too, leaving brown patches behind, but it’s still impressive, still makes Baekhyun proud to watch. 

“Good,” he murmurs, leaning in close and watching over her shoulder. She jumps, turning to look at him. The stream she’s constructing in midair shakes, and Baekhyun extends a hand to hold it still. “Steady, princess,” he reminds, turning his head slightly to meet her gaze. “Breathe.”

She does so, softly, giving her attention back to the magic she's working, and Baekhyun helps her set the magic so that even without her constant attention, the flow of water will remain smooth and constant. The horses dip their heads to drink, and Hyeran turns to Baekhyun with the widest of smiles.

“I killed some grass,” she says, still grinning.

“Yeah, you fucked up a bit,” Baekhyun agrees. “You still did really well.” Hyeran giggles, fucking _giggles_ , and Baekhyun’s stomach does a weird twisting motion. “Are you hungry?” he asks.

“Yes,” Hyeran admits. “But I’m tired of jerky.”

“Sorry, girlie,” Baekhyun says even if he, too, is sick of the stuff. He thinks of the apple tree tucked behind his father’s house. “That’s all we have.” Baekhyun opens his pack and pulls out the last of the jerky and salted pork and a few mint leaves. They’re a little browned on the edges, but they’ll do. Hyeran heaves a dramatic sigh, but she eats without further complaint. Baekhyun could hunt for them, he supposes, but he’s already got his boots unlaced and his cloak removed.

He leans back when he finishes off the last of the pork, rubbing his belly. He sticks a mint leaf in his mouth, chewing away the worst of the salt flavor.

“If I never eat salted pork again, it will be too soon,” he says. Hyeran laughs and copies him, leaning back. Her head lands on Baekhyun’s shoulder, and she turns on her side, pressing right up against him, hooking an ankle over his leg.

“What do you eat on the cliffs?” she asks.

“Stew,” Baekhyun answers without hesitation. “A whole fuckin’ lot of stew.”

“That sounds nice right now,” Hyeran murmurs. She sounds drowsy, and snuggles a little further into Baekhyun’s side, tracing her fingers over the stitching in his tunic. He shifts, pillowing her head on his arm. The stars overhead seem to twinkle down happily at them, and Baekhyun catches Hyeran’s hand drawing mindless patterns on his chest. 

“What do you know about the stars, princess?” he inquires, staring up at them.

“A lot?” Hyeran answers, but it sounds like a question. “Do you?”

Baekhyun shrugs just slightly, trying not to jostle her too much. “Nah. I just know they’re like the sun. Energy, y’know? Just… a little too far away to reach.”

Hyeran hums, tangling her fingers with his. “Is that all?”

“Papa had me study magic,” Baekhyun defends. “If it wasn’t magical, then it wasn’t deemed important to him.”

“I’ll teach you something then,” Hyeran offers, and Baekhyun gives a little murmur of agreement followed by a whine of dissent when she tugs her hand from his. Hyeran glances up at him with an unimpressed lift of her eyebrow, and Baekhyun frowns. “So, look… here.” Hyeran points, and Baekhyun follows the end of her finger up to the formation of stars above. “See this?” She traces out the points of a square and a line, looking at him expectantly. Maybe Baekhyun is completely unimaginative, but he has absolutely no idea what he’s supposed to be looking at.

“No.”

Hyeran sighs. “It’s the Big Dipper,” she says. “Look.” She traces it out again, but this time, she trails magic from her fingers, forming the image over the real stars. “The ladle...here. And the handle… here. See?” It’s vague, but with her drawing over the stars, Baekhyun can see the boxy figure.

“Yeah, I guess,” he says. Hyeran beams.

“Okay then, look here.” She erases the ‘big dipper’ and draws just beneath it. “This one is the little dipper.”

“They’re connected,” Baekhyun observes, and Hyeran does this little _wriggle_ in her delight that is both obscenely cute and terribly suggestive. Baekhyun stares upward pointedly, trying to ignore his own reactions to her.

“Yes,” Hyeran confirms. “There’s story behind it, you know.”

“Yeah?”

Hyeran shifts, propping herself up with her arms on his chest. Her hair falls around them like a curtain, shielding their faces from the rest of the world. For this moment, nothing exists but the two of them and the spark of their shared magic.

“There’s a couple different versions,” Hyeran starts, drumming her fingers on his collarbone. “But my favorite goes something like… there was a mother bear, and she went to get honey for her cub. But-”

“Did she walk too far or something?” Baekhyun interrupts. “Got fuckin’ lost in the sky?” 

Hyeran smacks the side of his head. “No!”

Baekhyun snorts into laughter at her indignation, and Hyeran digs her elbows into ribs. 

“What the fuck, woman?” Baekhyun coughs, straining to sit up. Hyeran presses him back down, laughing at him. She brushes her hair back and relaxes against Baekhyun’s side again, one arm draped across his middle. 

“Behave,” she hisses. “And listen.” She takes a second to eye him, and Baekhyun puts on his most innocent expression. Hyeran pinches his side, and her smile is positively sardonic when he yelps. “The mother bear accidentally wandered into a dragon’s lair, and she found a pot of honey there. The dragon thought the honey was liquid gold, and he attacked the mother bear, snatching her up in his jaws and carrying her into the sky. The mother bear was trapped there, and the baby bear was so brave. He snuck into the dragon’s lair after his mother and grabbed the pot of honey and climbed on the dragon’s back when it was sleeping.” Baekhyun rolls his eyes, but Hyeran ignores him. “The next time the dragon flew into the sky, the baby bear jumped from his back to join his mother in the sky.”

“So we have bears in the sky…” Baekhyun starts, incredulous.

“The dragon was angry at being tricked, so it used its magic to turn the bears into ladles so that they would have to hold the liquid gold forever as punishment for stealing from the dragon,” Hyeran continues. “And now they can never drink the honey, but at least they have each other. The end.”

Baekhyun blinks. “So there are bears masquerading as giant spoons in the sky because of a dragon,” he recounts. He props himself up on his elbows and looks down at Hyeran. He fixes his lips into a sneer. “You know a dragon would never confuse fucking honey for bloodydamn gold.”

“It’s a _story_ , Baekhyun,” Hyeran sighs. She pinches his side again. _Hard_. Baekhyun jumps up and twists to tackle the princess onto her back, pinning her arms over her head. 

“You act like a castle pet, but you’re a slum rat, aren’t you?” he accuses, and Hyeran just throws back her head and barks out a single laugh, sticking her tongue out at Baekhyun. “Careful with that,” he warns. “I’ll bite it.”

“I dare you,” Hyeran counters, but she closes her mouth, leaning away. Baekhyun follows her, hovering over her for a long moment.

“Wouldn’t that be a story for the slum kids,” he muses quietly, “the exile who bit the princess’ tongue?” Hyeran flushes bright pink, and Baekhyun’s lips quirk up. “Cute, girlie.”

“I’m not cute,” she tries.

Baekhyun rolls his eyes and whispers as low as he can, his lips almost brushing hers, “You’re real fuckin’ cute.” Hyeran doesn’t move, staring at him with wide eyes, and it would only take the slightest tilt of his chin to kiss her. He closes his eyes and leans up instead, pressing his lips to her forehead. Hyeran’s fingers twist in the fabric of his shirt as Baekhyun draws back. “Let’s sleep,” he whispers. “It’s a long ride to the cliffs.”

Hyeran doesn’t say anything, just watches him lay down before she tucks herself against his side. Her lips brush over his cheek and she hooks her ankle over his again, her eyes slipping closed. Baekhyun already feels like he might not sleep tonight. Still, her gentle breathing ghosts across his neck, and he is just so, _so_ fond.

“Sweet dreams, princess.”

*

Only a league or two away from the cliffs where Baekhyun’s childhood home sits, he can tell Hyeran is completely exhausted, her grip on the reins too tight and her eyes dim.

“Princess,” he calls to her. He doesn’t receive a response, but he can see her shoulders hunched forward, her posture slipping. He tugs on his mare’s reins and spurs her forward, moving up beside the stallion. “Princess,” he tries again. He reaches out and smoothes his fingers over the back of her hand, taking the reins from her. “Whoa,” he orders the horses, both of them stamping their hooves as they come to a stop. 

“I’m sorry,” Hyeran says, voice breathy with fatigue.

“It’s fine,” Baekhyun tells her, slipping from his horse.

“Wait,” Hyeran begins. “I don’t want to stop again. I can-”

“We’re not stopping,” Baekhyun calms her. “I’m going to ride with you. Can’t have a princess falling off her horse, yeah?” Hyeran nods, giving a murmur of assent. Baekhyun fishes a lead line from one of the saddlebags, looping it through the back of the stallion’s saddle. He tosses the mare’s reins over her head and ties them to the lead line on the stallion’s saddle before he pulls himself up onto his back behind Hyeran. He reaches around her, trapping her upright with his arms and gently tugging the reins from her hands.

Hyeran sighs, leaning back against Baekhyun’s chest. “Sorry,” she whispers again.

Baekhyun leans his cheek against her head and resists the urge to press his lips to her temple. “No worries, princess. Nap if you need to. I’ve got you.” He tucks his elbows in against her sides, and Hyeran hums her contentment. Baekhyun digs his heels into the stallion’s side, and he trots forward, moving not too quickly but faster than they could walk across the plains.

Hyeran makes it maybe another hundred paces of the horse before she falls asleep, her head tipping to the side. She buries her face deeply in his shoulder, and Baekhyun is glad for the horses’ hooves plodding along to disguise the pounding in his chest. 

He’s so nervous.

It’s far too late to change his mind now, the cliffs coming in view, and he wouldn’t have been so cruel as to force Hyeran to go back to the kingdom so quickly. He’s selfish too. He wants as much time with her as possible.

But that doesn’t mean he’s not nervous about her seeing his home and meeting his father. He’s broken a lot of rules, and his father isn’t going to let him pretend otherwise. That is, if his father is even there, and if he’s not, that might actually be enough to terrify Hyeran. Baekhyun’s father has never been around another person while attempting to peer beyond the veil of the world into dragon territory. 

He tightens his grip on Hyeran and urges the horse forward a little faster. They’re close now, the waves crashing against the rocks below.

Hyeran shifts, her forehead pressed to his neck.

“Is that…” she murmurs, waking with the horse’s quicker pace. Her eyes open, and she sits up, not quite leaning against Baekhyun but not trying to free herself from his embrace. “Can I hear the sea?” 

Her voice seems to rise with the waves Baekhyun can hear, her excitement ringing with their crashing against the rocks below.

“Yeah,” Baekhyun’s says. “You can.” He tugs the reins just slightly left, leading the horses closer to the edge. “Look.” Hyeran gasps, sitting up straight, her fingers tight around Baekhyun’s wrists. Her eyes are wide, and Baekhyun casually snaps his fingers, willing the wind to ward away any salt spray if the dark clouds in the distance get too close.

“It’s _huge,_ ” she breathes, and her eyes fall shut as she breathes in. “The salt.” She bites her bottom lip, suppressing a smile. She eases the stallion’s reins from Baekhyun’s hands and kicks at the horse’s sides. Baekhyun wraps his arms tight around her waist as she urges the horse even closer to the sea, stopping only a few paces from the cliff’s edge.

“It’s bloodydamn violent,” Baekhyun tells her. 

“It’s amazing,” Hyeran whispers. She releases the reins with one hand and slides her fingers between Baekhyun’s against her stomach. “I never thought I’d see it. The sea.”

“You probably wouldn’t have left the palace if not for me,” Baekhyun agrees. Hyeran frowns, pulling her hand from his, and Baekhyun grabs for her, tugging her back against him. “I’m so happy,” he murmurs against her hair, “that you trusted me.”

“I was just using you,” Hyeran says. There’s a playful lilt to her voice, her eyes still focused on the rolling sea. Still, Baekhyun doubts that she’s completely joking. He let her use him in the beginning for his own purposes. Now, he would let her use him for anything. These feelings for her are too deeply ingrained for him to do anything but be whatever she needs of him.

“I know,” Baekhyun answers seriously.

Hyeran twists, tearing her gaze from the sea to Baekhyun’s face. “You’ve taken the worst revenge on my father in exchange,” she says. “But that’s…. That’s not really important to me anymore.” She turns back to the cold water, and the wind catches her hair, blowing it away from her neck. Baekhyun gives in, emboldened on the land where he grew up, and leans forward. His lips brush over her neck, and he doesn’t miss the way she shivers, her fingers curling in her skirts. 

“You’re beautiful,” he tells her just because he can. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see a blush warming her cheeks.

“Are we almost there?” Hyeran asks, and her voice shakes the slightest bit.

“A short sprint,” Baekhyun reveals, drawing back from her. “Are you good to ride by yourself?”

Hyeran nods, but it’s another long moment before Baekhyun loosens his grip around her waist. He reaches behind him and unties the lead line to the mare, and whistles low, calling her up to him. The mare whinnies, trotting up, and Baekhyun takes the chance to leap onto her back, digging his heels into her sides.

“Ha!” he shouts, flicking the reins over her head and into his hands with a small tug of magic. He hears Hyeran shout behind him, and the wind and the thud of hooves over hard ground fill his ears. Hyeran’s loud laughter peels in the wind, and the roar of the waves seems to be an almost cheery sound for the first time.

Baekhyun laughs too. This type of feeling is something he can only describe as free. Out here, he’s not an exile. Out here, she’s not a princess. Out here, they’re just two original magic users racing with the waves. 

It’s a thrill Baekhyun will remember forever. 

The sun breaks through the clouds, drawing the water into a mist before them. Through the rainbow-tinted glare, the house Baekhyun has always known to be his home looms. He points.

“There!” he shouts, and he turns back to see Hyeran’s excited face. He wonders if she’s nervous at all. He kicks his horse again, urging her just a tad faster until the sparse ground is lush with grass and the air seems a bit warmer. This is magic at work around the house.

Baekhyun tugs on the reins, slowing the horse into a gallop, waiting only a few strides for Hyeran to catch up before he slows again into a canter. He leads her around to the well standing at the back of the house at a trot, the horses breathing hard underneath them, their sides heaving.

“This is your home?” Hyeran asks, looking around. There isn’t much to look at, but it’s still Baekhyun’s home.

“Yeah,” he answers. “Not really a fuckin’ palace, but it works.” He jumps from the mare’s back and loops her reins around the stand beside the water trough. It hasn’t been used in a long time. The last horse his family owned was his mother’s, and she didn’t live past her owner’s death.

“I think it’s wonderful,” Hyeran says, and there’s such an honest ring to her voice. “The palace is where I live, but it’s not really… it’s not what I think home is really like.” Baekhyun nods like he understands, but he really doesn’t. The palace definitely isn’t a home to him, but she’s lived there her entire life. Hyeran swings one leg over her stallion’s back, sliding down. Baekhyun steadies her with his hands on her waist, calling on the air to assist him in lowering her gently to the ground. “The palace isn’t a place for a family,” Hyeran continues as Baekhyun ties the stallion’s reins next to the mare’s. “The palace is a place for royalty to rule.”

“Do you hate it?” Baekhyun asks before he can stop himself.

Hyeran faces him, only a hand’s breadth of space between them. “I hate what it means I’m supposed to become,” she answers, both vague and dreadfully honest. 

_Me too,_ Baekhyun thinks, but he can’t tell her that. He doesn’t hate that she belongs there, that she’s going to become queen. He hates that she won’t be able to become his to love forever.

“Let’s go inside?” he asks instead, letting the conversation die. Hyeran looks relieved, but now, Baekhyun can see that she’s a little bit nervous. “Listen,” he starts, and Hyeran stares at him expectantly, maybe a little bit grateful to have a little bit more time before they go inside. “Papa can be… shit.” He bites his lip, and Hyeran waits patiently. “He taught me everything,” Baekhyun tries again, “but sometimes… he likes to try stretching the limits of magic.”

“Is that… not good?” Hyeran asks.

Baekhyun shakes his head. “There are things that magic just can’t fucking do,” he says. “And humans have limits that are… not as great as the dragons.”

“But you’re dragonborn!” Hyeran protests. “And your father-”

“Even dragonborns are human,” Baekhyun reminds her. “Some magic just isn’t meant to be handled by human hands. Papa didn’t…” He breathes. “Grief can make people do really fucking desperate things,” he settles on, leading Hyeran around to the front of the house where the wind isn’t quite as strong. The circle carved into the door buzzes with a protective ward placed around the house. 

“What are you saying?” Hyeran asks.

“Sometimes,” Baekhyun says, choosing his words carefully, “ _sometimes_ , he’s unstable.” He licks his lips. “He’ll disappear into the the energy in the air and lose control of his own power.” 

Fear flickers on Hyeran’s face, and although she hides it quickly, Baekhyun still sees it. She’s seen him really open his strength, and he knows that his father can do just as much damage as he could if his mind were lost to the spirits that pollute the air. He squeezes Hyeran’s upper arm. “He won’t hurt you,” he promises. “I won’t let him.”

“I know,” Hyeran tells him. “I trust you.”

“Okay,” Baekhyun murmurs. He turns and faces the door. “Okay.” _Fuck._

Baekhyun presses his hand through the ward easily, tearing open its seams to bring Hyeran inside.

The familiar dust in the air, the hum of magic, the memories of his mother all flood Baekhyun’s senses, and he feels the weariness of travel finally hit him now that he’s in a safe place. He takes off his cloak and unlaces his boots, dropping them next to the door in a heap. His mother would be so displeased. Hyeran stares at the discarded garments on the floor.

“Should I?”

“Mom fucking hated it when I did this,” Baekhyun admits, and Hyeran tilts her head to the side in consideration, frowning slightly at the mess. Before Baekhyun can stop her, she rights his boots and hangs his cloak on a peg on the wall, draping her own over it and settling her boots beside his.

“I wouldn’t want to make your mother think badly of me,” Hyeran says by way of explanation in response to Baekhyun’s raised eyebrow. She smiles, looking pleased with herself.

“Bloodydamn princess,” Baekhyun mutters with a roll of his eyes.

“My son,” is called down the stairs, and Baekhyun freezes, his eyes going wide before he can compose himself.

“Remember traveling up the mountain?” he hisses at Hyeran. She nods, her own eyes a tad too wide. “Treat this like that,” Baekhyun orders. “No magic. Please.”

“Right,” Hyeran agrees. “Okay.”

Baekhyun shows her a small smile, but he doubts his father won’t be able to see through Hyeran’s best control. He thinks of the stone left in the saddle bags. He’s so fucked.

“Papa,” Baekhyun calls back, taking a step forward and drawing Hyeran behind him just in case his father isn’t quite _here._ “I’m home.”

“I can see that,” his father says, coming down to the foot of the stairs. His voice slides smooth over the syllables of dragon tongue, and Hyeran makes a tiny noise of confusion behind Baekhyun. “I always feel like I’m so close to your mom when you’re here. She always comes back for you.” Baekhyun finches, eyeing his father carefully. His expression seems composed, his power in control, and his eyes clear. However, his choice of language is curious. Either he’s lost in the energies in the air, too tapped into dragon magic to separate from it, or he doesn’t want Baekhyun’s guest to know what he’s saying. Baekhyun doesn’t know which he prefers.

“Are you here?” Baekhyun tests, speaking dragon speak just in case common tongue startles him if he is trapped in some sort of state.

“I’m here,” his father confirms. “And so is someone else.” His gaze settles over Baekhyun’s shoulder, and Baekhyun stiffens. “Introduce us, Baekhyun,” his father orders. Baekhyun’s stomach is a mess of slum rats scurrying around. He glances back at Hyeran, and she’s watching him with an expression that is a nervous as it is trusting. 

“Of course,” he responds, switching to common speak. He steps to the side, and Hyeran moves to stand beside Baekhyun. Her fingers flex, but she stands tall with her shoulders back and her chin lifted. “Papa,” Baekhyun begins, “this is a friend of mine. We’ve been traveling together.”

His father’s next words are closer to a hiss, the dragon speak harsh. “You bring the princess of the kingdom here?” he sneers. Baekhyun opens his mouth to protest, but his father presses on. “Do you think I can’t tell by the clothing?” he queries. “ This is the Princess Hyeran, daughter of the man who killed your mother.”

Hyeran obviously recognizes her own name, immediately dipping her head to curtsy. “I’m so sorry for intruding like this, Sir-”

“No, you’re not,” Baekhyun’s father interrupts, speaking common tongue again. “The royal family is never sorry. Death? Destruction of magic? It does not matter to you.”

“Papa,” Baekhyun cuts in, matching his father’s dark tone. “A daughter is not fucking responsible for her father’s bloodydamn crimes.” Hyeran grabs onto Baekhyun’s arm, and he can feel her gratitude in her grip.

His father stares at him, his eyes flicking between the two of them. “You don’t know what you’re doing, my son,” he says in dragon speak. “Have you been in the kingdom for so long that you’ve forgotten who you are?”

“I know,” Baekhyun answers shortly, a quick slide of breath. 

“I won’t welcome her,” his father hisses. “I know what happens when the royal family puts their hands on someone I love.” His stare at Baekhyun is full of meaning that Baekhyun doesn’t want to face. He glances away. “There is dinner in the kitchen,” his father mutters. He sweeps from the room then, his long robe flaring out behind him, and Baekhyun restrains himself from calling after his father. He will speak with him later when Hyeran isn’t listening to them exchange dragon speak.

He’s glad he never did teach her to speak it beyond the basics.

Baekhyun takes a deep breath to compose himself. “Are you hungry?” he asks Hyeran. “Papa says there’s food ready.”

“I-” Hyeran starts. She stops, staring off in the direction of the study where Baekhyun’s father went. “What was all of that?” Her look at Baekhyun is expectant, but Baekhyun can’t bring himself to answer.

“Nothing,” he lies. Hyeran frowns. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Hyeran sighs, making a face. “Sure,” she answers. “I’m hungry.” Baekhyun forces a grin onto his face and takes her hand, leading her to the kitchen. He tries to make a big show of settling her at the table and filling a bowl with steaming stew, but Hyeran isn’t amused, watching him with a fixed expression until he sits with his own bowl, staring at it in defeat.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I just-”

“I guess your father wouldn’t be happy to see a princess,” Hyeran says. Baekhyun thinks he might have imagined it, but her eyes seem teary. “Let’s just eat.” Baekhyun blinks, but he waits for Hyeran to take the first taste of her stew before he lifts his own bowl to his lips.

“It’s good,” Hyeran murmurs, her voice still sad. Baekhyun chooses to not say anything, and they eat in heavy silence, nothing but the wind outside for ambience. Hyeran finishes before Baekhyun, and he doesn’t bother to let her wait, setting down his own bowl.

“You can sleep in my room,” he offers, standing. He walks around to the other side of the table and offers his hand to Hyeran. She takes it, silently letting him lead her to the stairs and up. The moment he opens the door, her control of her magic nearly slips, and her hands shifts in his. “You can use whatever you like,” Baekhyun tells her. “There are extra blankets in the chest there.” He takes his hand from hers and points to the foot of the bed.

“Baekhyun…” Hyeran murmurs.

“I’ll be downstairs,” he says, voice firm. “You just sleep.”

“I will,” Hyeran agrees. Baekhyun nods and makes to leave, but she grabs the back of Baekhyun’s shirt. “You can stay here with me if you wish.” Baekhyun halts, turning to look at her. “It is your room,” she says.

Baekhyun reaches out and cups her cheek, watching her flush. He shakes his head once. “You sleep here,” he repeats. Her hands come to rest on his chest, and her fingers tremble the slightest bit. She’s not ready for what she’s asking, he thinks. “Sleep well,” he murmurs, and he strokes his thumb across her cheek and leaves, striding quickly back down the stairs. 

“You too,” Hyeran calls after him, but Baekhyun thinks sleep won’t come easy. He makes his way to his father’s study, but the doors are firmly shut, the only energy in the room that of his father’s disappointment and malicious intent. A terrible protective fire bursts to life in Baekhyun’s chest, and he redirects that energy to the fireplace, bringing the common room to life with an orange glow.

Baekhyun moves as quietly as he can, spreading blankets on the ground in front of the fire and rolling one into a makeshift pillow.

He’s exhausted, but he forces himself to stay awake until his father finally opens the doors to his study, walking out with tiredness seeping from him. He stops when he sees Baekhyun in the common room.

“I expected you to be fucking that girl,” his father says, staring at him with dark eyes, his whispers making the dragon language even clearer. “Instead you gave her your room. Such chivalry.”

Baekhyun matches his father’s stare and says nothing.

“She’s unprotected there,” his father continues. “I don’t sense any wards.”

“You won’t fucking touch her,” Baekhyun snarls in the most filthy dragon speak he knows. “I won’t let you.”

“You’re an idiot,” his father sneers. “A fucking idiot.”

“You think I don’t bloodydamn well know that?” Baekhyun snaps back.

His father’s anger is layered with something akin to sadness. “I won’t touch her,” his father concedes. “She’s going to break you more than I ever could, but I won’t touch her even if that kills me, as your papa, not to protect you.”

Baekhyun narrows his eyes at his father, but he doesn’t say anything to refute him. His father is right. Baekhyun has known for months what he’s heading for on a runaway spell. 

“Goodnight,” his father says, the softest thing he’s uttered since Baekhyun entered the house, and it fills Baekhyun with a sort of warmth that calms the dread creeping through his veins.

“Stay here,” Baekhyun murmurs in response, and he settles down to stare into the flames, listening to the crack and pop accompany his father’s footsteps up the stares into his room. The flames lull him, and his eyes droop. Another set of footsteps, lighter, more hesitant, reach his ears, and Baekhyun sits up.

“Girlie,” he whispers when Hyeran steps into the warm light. “What are you doing?”

Hyeran doesn’t answer him right away, choosing to slide under the blankets with Baekhyun and lean against his side. “Couldn’t sleep,” she whispers. She laces their fingers together, and Baekhyun thinks he can maybe feel exactly what she’s thinking.

Their time together is coming to a close.

“Your father is scary,” Hyeran murmurs. “I can just see the pain in his eyes. He looks so worried about you and furious at me.”

“Nah, sweetheart,” Baekhyun tries. “He just misses my mom.”

Hyeran hums, unconvinced, but Baekhyun isn’t going to tell her that his father, for all intents and purposes, hates her without even knowing her.

“I used to have dreams about dancing in fire,” Hyeran tells him suddenly. “I wanted to learn magic so badly, and elemental magic used to be the most fascinating to me.”

“Yeah?” Baekhyun prompts.

“Yeah,” Hyeran continues. “It’s just…” She keeps talking about everything and nothing, telling him about how she discovered the texts that barely covered original magic at all in the first place. Her story fades out as she falls asleep, her words becoming slurred murmurs until she drops off against Baekhyun. He sighs, carefully pulling her into his arms and arranging them together to sleep. Her hair tickles his nose, but Baekhyun only buries his face further in her hair.

“Goodnight, love,” he whispers, and he hopes she hears it in her dreams of dancing in the fire.

*

Baekhyun’s arms are empty and the fire is dead when he wakes, jerking upright with his heart leaping into his throat.

“Hye-!”

“She’s outside,” his father’s voice interrupts. Baekhyun twists, turning to face his father.

“She’s-”

“Outside,” his father repeats. “She discovered the apple tree.” Baekhyun coughs, pressing a hand to his chest to calm his racing heart. “The horses will be too sleepy to go anywhere for days if she keeps feeding them,” his father adds. “I was going to tell her that, but something stopped me.”

Baekhyun closes his eyes. “Papa, it’s not-”

“At first I thought for sure I had made a mistake,” his father presses on, ignoring Baekhyun. “There’s absolutely no way my son would be idiot enough to break the longest tradition of dragonborn people.” 

“I-”

“And you are an idiot, Baekhyun, but I could not bring myself to believe that you would teach the princess of the kingdom who exiled us our magic.” His father closes his eyes, pressing the heels of his palms against them. “Because as stupid as he is, my idiot son knows that if he were to share his magic with a girl he can never marry, then the dragonborn line would die. He wouldn’t let original magic die with him.”

Baekhyun flinches, biting hard on his bottom lip. “Papa-”

“But then I realized that I must be mistaken, because the magical presence I felt was far too strong to be coming from a princess,” Baekhyun’s father states. He stands, his frown creasing his whole face. “Why do you have the Word of Dragons hidden in a saddle bag, Baekhyun?”

Baekhyun presses his lips together, staring resolutely at the floor.

“Baekhyun,” his father demands again, and Baekhyun shakes his head.

“It’s not-”

“I’ll kill that damned princess, Baekhyun,” his father threatens. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Rage burns in Baekhyun’s bones, and he jumps to his feet, standing eye to eye with his father. “You won’t,” he growls. “She’s better than her father.”

Baekhyun’s father barks out a laugh tainted with disbelief. “She’s his daughter,” he argues. “I don’t care what she’s told you: in the end, she’s going to become queen.”

“Exactly,” Baekhyun says, holding himself back from hissing in his anger at his father’s threats. “Her father is going to issue a public quest to win the princess’ hand,” he reveals. “Whoever brings him the stone will be made King Consort.”

Baekhyun’s father stares at him, his expression unreadable. “No one can get to the graveyard,” his father speaks slowly. “You know this. The dragons will never allow it. You and I are the only ones who could complete this quest.” He crosses his arms and taps his fingers against his elbow. “Unless you plan to claim the princess for yourself with that stone? You’ll be dead the second you enter the courtroom.”

“I know,” Baekhyun counters. “I’m not planning to do anything with the stone. I don’t need to buy anyone.”

His father regards him with a long gaze that saddens as the moments pass. “I see,” he says finally. “She’s going to win the challenge herself. And you’re going to let her take the stone.” His father scoffs, but there’s no more anger to his words. He sounds broken, and Baekhyun’s heart feels the same way. His father already showed Hyeran out as an original magic user and feigned ignorance to ask about the stone instead.

The two of them have never lied to each other before, but Baekhyun doesn’t want to admit out loud what he’s done and hurt his father more.

“Why would you choose this, Baekhyun?” his father asks. “Why, when you know how this ends?” 

Baekhyun shakes his head. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

His father nods. “Right,” he says. “Of course not. Go to your lady bird and pretend what you’ve set in motion isn’t already coming to a close.” Baekhyun looks away from the sadness on his father’s face. “How can I tell my wife what her son did? Will she be proud of you? Sad?” His father mutters a few more words as he wanders away, disappearing back into his study.

Baekhyun’s heart feels heavy, and his head hurts. He’s known all of this since before he and Hyeran made their mad dash from the kingdom, but to hear it laid out before him, stated so plainly, makes it impossible to ignore what he’s really doing for the princess.

And she has no idea.

He rubs at his eyes and adjusts his shirt, snatching his tunic from the floor and pulling it on. His boots and cloak wait exactly how Hyeran left them, and he tugs them on, strapping his cloak across his chest and letting magic tie up his laces. 

The air outside is cold, but not as cold as it could be outside of the wards set around the house. A bright laugh, an unmistakable giggles, calls Baekhyun’s attention, and he walks around the side of the house to see Hyeran gently running her hand down the stallion's long face, cooing at him as he munches on an apple core. 

“Hyeran,” Baekhyun announces his presence. The princess looks up at him, positively beaming. Despite the cold, despite the harsh land, she seems to be glowing. 

“Good morning,” she greets, reaching for another apple.

“You probably shouldn’t feed them anymore,” Baekhyun says, walking up beside the stallion. He pats the horse’s shoulder, and startles when the mare knocks her nose against his back to get his attention. Hyeran laughs.

“Your father said the same thing,” she says. “But these two got me to the Word of Dragons. They deserve a little spoiling, don’t you think?” She bites into the apple in her hand and holds it out to Baekhyun, a bit of juice trickling down her chin. Baekhyun shrugs.

“I fuckin’ guess so,” he agrees. He takes the offered apple from her, biting into it. Hyeran’s eyes curve with her smile, and he reaches out to wipe the juice from her skin. Hyeran’s eyes flutter open, watching him suck his thumb into his mouth. “These are real bloodydamn sweet this year,” he comments casually, trying not to smirk too much at her blush.

“I can’t believe there’s an apple tree actually _surviving_ out here,” she says, looking up at the branches. Awe makes her sound breathless.

“It was my mom’s,” Baekhyun tells her. 

“Your mother,” Hyeran whispers. She rests her fingertips against the tree’s trunk and breathes. “It’s so alive.”

“Yeah.” Baekhyun steps in close beside Hyeran, turning to give the mare the rest of the apple in his hand. “Papa and I keep it healthy every year. Some sort of tribute to her.”

“Oh,” Hyeran murmurs, pressing her hand flat against the bark. “So this is her.”

Baekhyun stills, watching Hyeran carefully. She closes her eyes and breathes again, and Baekhyun keeps quiet, reaching out to the energy around them too. He can feel his mother’s energy here, but he knows her. He’s always been able to remember the sweet lilt of her magic. Hyeran has never met his mother and never will, yet here she is, testing out the residual energy from years ago.

“She’s so faint,” Hyeran mutters, a crease appearing between her eyebrows as she concentrates. “There’s so much of you here too.” The wind blows again, tossing Hyeran’s hair back from her face, and a tear catches on her lower lashes. Baekhyun places a hand on her shoulder and breathes with her. “She feels like you,” Hyeran continues. “Warm. Free.”

Baekhyun’s heart pounds.

“Come with me,” he says. He takes Hyeran’s hand and tugs gently. She turns from the tree.

“Okay,” she says, bright, curious. She’s free right now too, and Baekhyun wants her to feel it. There’s only one thing more free than people ever will be, and he needs her to see it. He needs her to understand what he’s suffered, what his family has suffered, and what they’ve gained from their exile.

He runs, and Hyeran follows. Until now, she’s listened to him for his knowledge of magic, his knowledge of where the stone is, but all the while she’s been leading him. They’ve done what she wants to do. Now it’s her following him, her running along behind him because she wants to know what there is out here.

Call it wishful thinking, but Baekhyun would love nothing more than for her to say she wants to stay with him. If she never goes back, then she could become what the dragons called her. 

But that will never happen, and so Baekhyun has only these few final days with her to act out what could have been.

The spray of the rolling seas hits them before they make it to the edge of the cliff, and the sun reflects off the blue spread out before them. Rocks crunch underfoot. The air screams along the jagged lines of the terrain, and Baekhyun and Hyeran stand panting on the precarious edge, nothing to protect them from certain death if they were to fall.

“This is it,” he pants, gesturing out to the water. “This is…” _The freest thing in this world._ “This is…” _My mother’s grave._ Baekhyun chooses not to fill in the gap he left. Hyeran speaks instead, and he doesn’t have to.

“She’s here,” Hyeran says, voice loud into the wind and laced with surprise. “This is definitely her. It’s so much clearer than at the apple tree.”

“Energy doesn’t die,” Baekhyun reminds her. “The dragons really tapped into that to preserve themselves.”

“But your mother is human,” Hyeran murmurs. She extends a hand toward the sea, flinching each time the cold spray hits her fingers. “She’s not even dragonborn.”

“But she was an original magic user,” Baekhyun explains and extends his hand out next to hers. The spray licks his palms, but he doesn’t flinch from its frigidity. He’s known the cold of the sea since before he could walk. “And she fucking breathed it and fucking lived it the same as I do. And the same as you do.” He lays his hand against the back of hers and draws them both in a circle, trailing blue sparks behind the path their fingertips trace in the air. “Circles never fuckin’ end, princess.” They stand there for a long moment, just watching their magic - the same path and the same color - flash a brighter blue than the sea. Like lightning.

“Tell me how she died,” Hyeran requests, eyes still focused on their magic. It never ends, just spins around and around as long as there is energy to feed it. The sea carries that energy with every crash of the waves against the rocks.

“Hyeran,” Baekhyun starts to protest.

“I think I know already,” she interrupts him. Her voice is quiet but not soft. “From what you’ve said about the cliffs, it’s just… just tell me.”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “I don’t think-”

“Your father sounded like he was cursing me,” she cuts in. “I don’t speak the dragon language, but I know what a curse sounds like.” She inhales shakily. “I need to understand, Baekhyun. There’s so much I don’t know about all of this, and I’m directly involved now. I need to know.”

For as long as Baekhyun has known Hyeran, she’s been eager to learn, thirsting for knowledge. She’s open-minded and smart even if a bit naive. She’s not wrong about his father’s anger. Baekhyun’s father’s words had been nothing short of the illest wish on Hyeran. 

“Just tell me,” Hyeran begs. Baekhyun lets the circle of magic die. “Baekhyun,” Hyeran presses. “Tell me. Please.”

Baekhyun takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to tell her; he wants to protect her. But she’s not going to let this subject die, so he turns to face Hyeran. “Princess,” he begins. “I don’t want to tell you.”

Hyeran’s eyes are distant. “Why?” she demands.

Baekhyun closes his eyes. “Because I know you’ll blame yourself when you had nothing to do with it.”

“Tell me,” Hyeran asks again. “I’m trying to understand the man you see when you think of my father.” Her voice shakes, and her hands tremble. She’s already figured it out, Baekhyun can tell. He sighs.

“The cliffs aren’t meant to be survived,” he says, slowly. The pain of it, of losing his mother, barrels back into him, and he blinks hard to try to keep the tears from his eyes. She wouldn’t want him to cry anymore. He thinks of the king and the sadness turns to fury. “I think of the bloodydamn king and I think of a rathshit killer. I think of my mother’s murderer. But he didn’t kill her. Not really.” He takes a trembling breath and swallows the sob trying to break free of his throat. “She did that herself.”

“Why?” Hyeran asks again, and Baekhyun opens his eyes to see she’s crying too. “Why would she do that? Why would she leave you?”

“Because it will drive you bloodydamn mad,” Baekhyun answers. “The sound of the sea. The crash of the waves just breaking over and over again until it’s the only thing you can hear. Until the death of the waves makes you feel as if your own magic is dead.”

Hyeran stares out at the sea, not bothering to hide how upset she is. She cries openly, her shoulders shaking as her tears fall. 

“She jumped,” Baekhyun continues. “Papa lifted her from the waves just before she drowned, and she begged him to let her go.” He can see it still, his mother clinging to his father’s hand. The scar on his side throbs with the memory of her power fluctuating.

“She died in his arms,” Baekhyun says. “I was the last person she looked at.” He clears his throat. “Even now, I can feel her in the corners of my house and in the spellwork in the wards. The dead kind of live on with us, like that.”

Hyeran doesn’t touch him. She falls to her knees, her arms wrapped around herself. She shakes as she cries.

“My father did this,” she mutters. “He lied to me, you know? He told me he simply wanted original magic out of the kingdom. He didn’t tell me he wanted it to die. He wants everything about it dead.” She barks out a laugh. “I was so naive. I believed him.”

“It’s not your fault,” Baekhyun tells her.

“I know,” she says. She repeats it, her voice softening as if she’s trying to remind herself too. “I know. It’s my father’s.” The waves keep crashing, and Baekhyun stands awkwardly over Hyeran, letting her cry. He fidgets. Hyeran doesn’t move. “I’d like to be alone,” she requests, her voice awfully formal.

Baekhyun hesitates.

“Please,” Hyeran murmurs, and Baekhyun hisses a curse under his breath.

“Okay,” he allows like he has any real control over what Hyeran chooses to do. He breathes, calming himself and lifting wards into the air around her to keep the frigid air and the salty spray from hitting her.

“Don’t,” Hyeran says, her own magic flaring out to break through the half-formed wards. Baekhyun grits his teeth. “I need to feel this. I need to remember this.”

“No, you don’t,” Baekhyun says. “This is… these are the last days for us, and you don’t need to spend them making yourself miserable over something that isn’t your fault.”

“I need to spend them learning you,” Hyeran counters. “I _need_ to remember this. _All_ of this.” She stares resolutely out to the water, and Baekhyun sighs. She’s so stubborn, and it’s as frustrating as it is something he likes about her.

“Don’t stay for long,” he requests. He gets a solitary nod in response. His fingers curl in his frustration, and he turns to leave.

“She loved you so much,” she says as he walks away. “I can feel it. She loved you, and my family destroyed her.” There’s something in the way she says it that breaks Baekhyun’s heart. It sounds like she’s awed by that - that a mother would love her son. He figures Hyeran has never known a parent’s love.

He realizes too late that this is why Baekhyun’s family was so important to her, why she wanted to meet them alive and well and loving and free.

It’s just another hope of hers that her own father has destroyed. It’s a hope that Baekhyun can’t hold up for her. The only thing he can do for her is ensure that she gets the freedom from her father’s quest that she wanted.

Baekhyun shoves down the jealousy in his chest at the thought that she may someday marry another man. It won’t be him bound to her forever, but he’ll give up anything to make sure she isn’t trapped in a miserable situation.

“What is she doing?” the voice of Baekhyun’s father breaks through his thoughts the moment he steps back inside.

“I told her about mom,” Baekhyun reveals, keeping his eyes downcast. He tugs his cloak from his shoulders and drops it carelessly on the ground. His father’s magical presence flares up at the mention of his late wife, and Baekhyun grabs onto it before it can extend beyond the realm of the living.

“Papa,” he calls. “Stay here.”

His father’s eyes are a little bright and a tad too feverish even as he nods. His magic calms, and Baekhyun sighs, keeping his own magical presence loud to remind his father to stay here with him. Just telling Hyeran about his mother had broken her; he doesn’t want to see his father when his mind is lost in the air around them.

“I’m making dinner,” his father says. “Come help.”

Baekhyun glances one more time in the direction of the cliffs and hopes fervently that Hyeran won’t stay there long. “Sure.”

Helping his father cook is mindless, dragging sharp magic through carrots and potatoes and heating the water before the fire is really ready. The sharp tang of wild grasses being turned to tea accompanies the rich scent of stew, and Baekhyun licks his lips. He should be sick of stew after how long he’s eaten it for, but even now it carries in it the taste of home.

He and his father sit in careful silence as they wait for the food to be ready, and they’re just ladling it into two bowls when the door to the house creaks open. Baekhyun immediately spins to grab a third bowl, pouring a hefty portion for Hyeran. He sets the bowl at the table and hurries to the house entrance.

“Hey,” he whispers. She shivers, and her fingers tremble as she tries to untie her cloak.

“Hello,” she returns.

“Here,” Baekhyun murmurs, taking her wrists and holding her hands to his neck to warm them. He jerks at how cold her touch is, but he doesn’t move away. Hyeran’s thumbs brush over his jaw, her eyes unfocused. Baekhyun pulls the knot holding Hyeran’s cloak around her shoulders, and she shivers again.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“Don’t,” Baekhyun quiets her. “There’s food on the table.” Hyeran nods, but she doesn’t make any move toward the kitchen. Baekhyun watches her, letting her simply breathe. “Okay,” he breathes, and Hyeran’s eyes are still unfocused as he slowly lowers himself to kneel in front of her, curling his fingers in the hem of her skirt.

“What are you doing?” Hyeran demands, voice still soft, but her confusion is clear.

“Hush, girlie,” Baekhyun soothes, tugging the lacing of her boots apart. “I just want you to relax and stay awhile, yeah?”

He gets a slight giggle for that, and Baekhyun ducks his head to hide his own grin. He slides a hand behind her ankle and lifts up her foot, carefully pulling her boot off. She wobbles, grabbing onto his shoulder for balance, and Baekhyun sets her foot back on the ground.

“Now the other, princess,” he urges, and she lifts her foot to help him, and Baekhyun tosses her boots aside carelessly. “Come on,” he says, pushing himself back to his feet and offering Hyeran his hand. “Let’s go eat.”

Her fingers are still chilly when they slide between his, but Baekhyun is glad that her day of reflecting on the king she thought she knew as the cliff’s edge has only left her exhausted and cold. He tightens his grip on her hand, refusing to let go even as he leads her into the kitchen, sitting down across from his father. He doesn’t miss his father’s eyes lingering on their joined hands, and he pretends that the silence isn’t suffocating.

Hyeran eats slowly and very little. Her hands are warm again when she tugs her hand from Baekhyun’s grip and stands with only half of her stew eaten.

“Thank you,” she whispers, ducking her head to Baekhyun’s father.

“Hyeran-” Baekhyun tries, reaching out to grab onto her sleeve.

“I’m tired,” she says, but she does turn back to face Baekhyun. He watches her look at his father with a cross between determination and apology on her face.

“Sleep in my room,” Baekhyun offers.

“I will,” she says. “Goodnight.” She leans down then, and her lips brush over Baekhyun’s cheek, her fingers curled in the collar of his tunic. Her dress disappears from the entrance to the kitchen a moment behind the rest of her, but Baekhyun sits frozen, staring at his father for his reaction.

His father does nothing but clear his throat and stand. He gestures at the dishes. “Clean this up,” he orders, making to sweep from the room.

“Aye, Papa,” Baekhyun agrees, but his own voice sounds strange to his ears. Did Hyeran really just…?

“And Baekhyun,” his father says. Baekhyun meets his father’s gaze. “I’ve been wrong before.” He leaves then, leaving Baekhyun to clean the kitchen alone.

Baekhyun shoves his bowl out of the way and drops his head on the table. He has no idea what his father means by that, and he has no idea how to make these final days with Hyeran not feel so melancholy. 

“Fuck. Fuck me.” Baekhyun buries his face in his arms tries to remember when everything was simpler.

*

Baekhyun gives up trying to pretend Hyeran isn’t the one he chose to teach his magic, taking her outside for lessons every morning and afternoon, trying to cram as much information about original magic as he can into her head.

After their time together ends, she’ll be named queen, and he’ll be… he doesn’t want to think about it. Hyeran will die with the title of the last original magic user, and Baekhyun will walk willingly through the seven before he allows the last original magic user to be any sort of mediocre.

“I don’t know why you tried to hide it in the first place,” Baekhyun’s father snorts one morning, sitting with Baekhyun in his study. He’s holding a book Baekhyun has never seen before angled up so that Baekhyun can’t see more than a blur of ink on the pages.

“I-” he starts, and then shrugs. “It’s my choice,” he settles on.

“I know,” his father says. “You’re your own man. I cannot choose for you what you should do.” Baekhyun is sure his father wishes he could, watching him trail his fingers over the open page of the book.

Baekhyun caves. “What are you reading now?” he asks. His father looks at him, tilting the book further out of Baekhyun’s sight. The cover is blank, nothing but the very first version of the circle that Chen drew when translating dragon magic into human ability depicted on the spine. 

“It doesn’t matter now,” his father says at the same time as Hyeran’s footsteps sound on the stairs. “Go be a good teacher. I have some studying to do.” Baekhyun stands, trying one last time to peer at the pages of the book. His father snaps it shut.

“Baekhyun!” he snaps.

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “I’m fuckin’ going. Don’t forget to stay here.” His father waves him away, setting the book aside and reaching for another with scorch marks on the corners.

“Baekhyun?” echoes gently through the house, and Baekhyun gives his father one last hard look.

“Stay here,” he reminds and leaves the study. 

He finds Hyeran waiting for him with her boots already on, fumbling with the ties on her cloak. It’s not the cloak they left with originally but one of Baekhyun’s mother’s old ones, the fur lining thicker and the fabric cut to cover her neck even with the hood down. It looks good on her even if the fabric doesn’t quite reach her ankles. 

“I want to climb down to the caves you told me about,” Hyeran announces, looking at him with the brightest smile.

Baekhyun raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re ready to do that?” he asks. 

“Air isn’t exactly a hard element to use,” Hyeran says, picking Baekhyun’s cloak up from the floor and flicking it at him in demonstration. Baekhyun catches it with his own magic, letting the air sling it around his shoulders and fasten the straps across his chest.

“Sure,” Baekhyun agrees, “but when the actual wind is interfering with your directions, it’s not so bloodydamn easy.” Hyeran drags him out the door anyway, holding a hand out toward the apple tree and summoning two of them towards her. She catches one, and Baekhyun snags the other.

“You’re fucking addicted to these,” he teases, jostling her shoulder. Hyeran shoves back at him.

“They’re not this sweet in the kingdom,” she says. “I have to get my fill before…” She takes a bite of her apple instead of finishing her sentence, but it’s not a mystery what she was going to say. The impending return of the princess to the kingdom hovers over them both.

“Alright,” Baekhyun says, words muffled around a bite of apple. “To the fuckin’ cliffs then.”

“The caves,” Hyeran corrects, and Baekhyun just tugs her hair in response. They hurry to the cliffs then, arriving just in time for a gust of wind to blow an impressive wave into the rocks. The spray splashes up towards them, drops of water soaked into their clothes. 

“You better be real fuckin’ sure you want to do this,” Baekhyun warns, sitting down on the edge of the cliff. His legs dangle over the edge, and he glances up at Hyeran. The tightness in her expression betrays her fear, but she settles down next to Baekhyun anyway. “If you fall…”

“If I fall, you’ll catch me,” she states. She looks at him and reaches out to grip his arm. “I know you will.” She smiles then, the corners shaking, but her grip never falters.

Baekhyun smiles back at her. “Okay, princess. Follow my lead.”

Baekhyun can clearly remember his mother shouting after him every time he tried to do this when he was younger, climbing down the sheer faces of the cliffs to look for places to hide from his father. It never really occurred to his younger self that learning the level of control over the air necessary to make it safely down the cliff faces is really good training, but his mother panicking as she watched him climb down with only potential death as company was always amusing to him.

Now, watching Hyeran climb down after him, scared that the howling wind will snatch her grip on the rocks away from her, he can sympathize with his mother.

The air pressure under his feet disappears suddenly, and Baekhyun glances down to see the gap opening into one of the caves. He grins, reaching out for a gust of wind and lets go. He drops, and the wind blows, throwing him inside.

He lands hard on his feet, and he rolls forward to absorb the impact before hurrying back to the cave’s entrance. He reaches again for another gust of wind, and peers up at Hyeran. 

“Just a bit further, girlie,” he calls up to her, and she looks down at him, pursing her lips.

“How do I…?” she calls back.

“I’ll catch you,” Baekhyun promises. “Let go.” He expects her to hesitate a second, maybe question him again, but she doesn’t.

She lets go.

“Shit,” Baekhyun hisses, curling his fingers and pulling the wind into the cave. Hyeran shouts, eyes wide before she slams into Baekhyun, the two of them crashing to the damp cave floor.

“I could have done that myself,” she grumbles, but her fingers are twisted in Baekhyun’s shirt, shaking with adrenaline.

“I told you I’d catch you,” Baekhyun wheezes. Hyeran presses her elbows into his chest as she pushes herself up.

“I do not believe this counts as ‘catching,’” Hyeran snorts. “You fell too.”

Baekhyun pouts at her. “Then you should have caught me,” he argues. “Keep it even.”

“Aren’t you the man?” Hyeran sniffs.

“Aren’t you the queen-to-be?” Baekhyun counters, sitting up. He said it in jest, but the reminder kills his good humor. He coughs. “Well. We made it.”

“Yes,” Hyeran says, drawing out the word. She picks up a stone and tosses it out of the mouth of the cave. The splash of it hitting the water is lost in the waves. “What now?”

Baekhyun hums, pretending to think. “Now…” he says, taking Hyeran’s hand. He lifts it to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “We…” He leans in close to her, and she turns slowly to face him. “Do nothing.”

Hyeran blinks. “What?”

Baekhyun slides his fingers between hers. “Wet caves,” he says. “There’s nothing to do here. It’s just a good hiding place.”

Hyeran glances around and scoots in closer to him, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Then we’ll just hide here a little longer,” she whispers. She extends her free hand to the mouth of the cave, and a ward shimmers into existence there, blocking the wind and the water.

“As long as you want, sweetheart,” Baekhyun promises. “Should we undress like the last time we stayed in a cave?”

Hyeran shoves away from him, hurrying to sit on the other side of the cave. It’s a narrow space, and their knees still touch. Baekhyun wiggles his eyebrows at her, and Hyeran flings sparks in his direction.

“I’m never suggesting we go to a cave ever again,” she swears. Baekhyun snorts.

“That’s probably best,” he concedes and opens his arms for her. “Come here. I’m just teasing.”

Hyeran glares, silently warning him not to do anything even as she shifts to let him pull her in against him.

“Just tell me when you’re ready to climb back up,” Baekhyun says. He gets a mere murmur of consent from Hyeran, and when he looks at her, she’s already dozed off. He sighs, pressing a kiss to her hair. If only moments like this could be theirs forever instead of a momentary reprieve.

A huge wave crashes into the ward only a few moments after Hyeran fell asleep, and she jerks up, fingers scrabbling at Baekhyun’s tunic as she struggles to right herself. She stares out at the water, grabbing for Baekhyun’s hand.

“You were right,” she mutters, lip curled in distaste as another wave crashes. “This place is only good for hiding.”

“You want to head back?” Baekhyun asks, pushing himself to his feet. He tugs Hyeran up to her feet with him.

“I’ll go first,” she offers, heading to the mouth of the cave. Her fingers pass through the ward, shattering it. “Just make sure I don’t fall, please?”

“Like I’d really let you just fucking die like that,” Baekhyun scoffs. He gestures for Hyeran to start the climb back, and he follows after her, doing his best to stop the majority of the wind.

They walk hand in hand back to the house, Hyeran chattering nonstop about how easily she’ll be able to escape the palace at any time now. Baekhyun is too caught up in Hyeran’s laughter echoing alongside his own to really take notice of the magical presence fluctuating with the waves.

The cracks in the wards around the house, however, he notices the second they step into view of them.

“Fuck,” he swears, dropping Hyeran’s hand. He should have seen it coming this time. His father had spent all night in his study, reading books Baekhyun has never seen before. The one he’d reached for before Baekhyun left has already been scarred by magic, and he’d ignored Baekhyun asking him to stay. “Fucking rat _shit_.”

Hyeran grabs at his elbow. “What is it?” she asks.

“Stay here!” Baekhyun orders, jerking out of her hold and running to the house. He ignores her shout after him, throwing the door open and reaching out with his own magic to try to secure the wards again.

“Papa!” he shouts. The doors to his father’s study rattle, and Baekhyun barrels through them, diving immediately for his father’s desk. His father sits with his hands spread on the pages of the book with the burned edges, his fingers burning holes in the pages. His knuckles are white and the tendons in his hands stand out just like the veins in his neck.

His eyes are blank, pupils dilated despite the bright light in the room. Baekhyun has no idea what he’s seeing, and he’s not sure he wants to.

“Papa,” Baekhyun calls, trying to lift his father’s hands gently from the pages of the book to save what he can of it. His father’s body is like ice, and fear stabs through Baekhyun’s chest. “Papa,” he tries again. “It’s me. Baekhyun. I’m here. Papa.”

His father gives no response, and there’s a bit of drool at the corner of his mouth. For one terrifying moment, Baekhyun is sure he isn’t breathing, but his magical presence would not be flooding the area if he wasn’t. 

“Come on,” Baekhyun urges. “I’m here. Why aren’t you here too?” He forcefully slides his hands underneath his father’s, letting his father’s wild magic attempt to burn Baekhyun’s skin instead. 

“She’s not there, Papa,” he soothes. “Come on. You’re not going to find her. Mom wouldn’t want-”

“Yoonhye!” his father’s voice screams, but his mouth doesn’t move.

“She’s dead!” Baekhyun shouts. “Stop this! Come back now!” The wind howls in the house, and the book rips right out from underneath Baekhyun and his father’s hands, the pages blowing around the room. “Papa!”

“Baekhyun?” Hyeran’s voice is terrified, and Baekhyun jerks from trying to control his father’s magic with his own. “What’s happening? What’s wrong with-?”

“I thought I told you to _stay_?” Baekhyun roars at her.

“I’m not a dog!” Hyeran spits back. Baekhyun’s father’s magic suddenly calms, and Baekhyun jerks back to look at him.

“Papa?” His father’s magic screams again. “Papa, please. Stop. Come back-!”

Hyeran’s hand lands on Baekhyun’s shoulder, and he glares at her, shrugging her hand away from him. 

“I can help,” she says.

“You can get out!” Baekhyun denies her, trying again to pull his father’s magic back to the man in front of him.

“Just contain his magic,” Hyeran orders, ignoring him. She brushes past Baekhyun and goes to stand behind his father.

“Hyeran,” Baekhyun growls. “I told you-”

“Come home,” she murmurs softly, settling her hands on Baekhyun’s father’s shoulders. “There is someone here who needs you now.”

Baekhyun’s father’s magic stutters, and Baekhyun stares at Hyeran.

“Your son misses you,” she continues. “He’s worried.” His father’s magic calms again, and Baekhyun grabs for it, securing the wards and bringing the magical presence back in, trying to ease his father’s return to reality. “There. Come home.”

“Hyeran,” Baekhyun whispers, watching her fingers settle gently against the back of his father’s neck.

His father’s eyes close, and he watches the man swallow. His magic disappears from the air, drawing back into himself, and Baekhyun leaps up, grabbing Hyeran and drawing her behind him.

“Papa?” he asks softly.

His father’s eyes open. “Baekhyun?”

Baekhyun rushes to kneel at his father’s side. “Papa? I’m here.” He taps his father’s wrist. “Are you here?”

“I’m here,” his father says, but his voice is rough, coming slowly. He’s still returning.

“Fuck,” Baekhyun breathes. “Okay. Let’s-”

“That girl,” his father interrupts, pointing at Hyeran. “It’s all a waste, isn't it?”

Hyeran doesn’t make any audible response to that, but Baekhyun feels her magical power fade completely from around her, hiding her presence. Rage coils in his stomach.

“I’m not my father,” she states.

Baekhyun’s father stares at her, looking her up and down. “No,” he agrees finally. “You’re not.” He grips the arms of his desk chair, and he shakes as he works to get himself to his feet. Baekhyun helps him up, watching him in confusion.

“I’m going to rest,” his father announces, his steps steadying as he makes his way out of his study. He pauses beside Hyeran, and Baekhyun hears him whispers to her. “Thank you.”

Hyeran’s mouth drops open. “You’re welcome,” she says, eyes wide. She stands frozen until the sound of Baekhyun’s father walking up the stairs fades.

“Hyeran?” Baekhyun takes a step toward her. She seems to snap out of whatever daze she was in and rushes forward, grabbing Baekhyun’s arms. “He-” Her eyes can’t seem to focus. “He cursed me and then...he thanked me?”

Baekhyun sighs, understanding just a moment too late what his father meant. His heart feels both light and heavy. “It’s not you that’s a waste,” he soothes, wrapping his arms around her.

“Then what-?”

“Please,” Baekhyun stops her, “when I tell you it’s nothing, don’t ask a single fucking question.”

Hyeran’s eyebrows furrow, but she consents. “Okay,” she says. “Is this what you meant when you warned me about your father?”

“I said no questions,” Baekhyun hisses. Hyeran waits, and Baekhyun sighs. “Yes. This is… he thinks he can find my mom, but…” He shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” Hyeran says. “This is because of my family, that-”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Baekhyun says. “This is because of your father. Not you. You’re… you’re so much better than he could ever be.”

“It’s sympathy,” Hyeran corrects. “I’ve never seen something that terrifying, and he… he’s your father.” She shakes her head and steps back. “But no questions. I promises. So… do you… want to eat?”

He doesn’t, but Baekhyun goes anyway. He lets Hyeran heat the soup and serve him. She talks about nothing, leaving Baekhyun to his thoughts as he absently forces himself to eat at least a little. After he leaves to take Hyeran to the palace, what will his father do the next time he gets too lost in his searching?

He thinks that maybe he really is letting too much go to waste.

*

The end of the year crashes in with a storm stronger than anything ever seen in the kingdom. The rain is mixed with ice as it falls, crashing into the windows and slamming into the roof. It wakes Baekhyun from his sleep by the fire, the wind howling down the fireplace.

“The rain is louder upstairs,” Hyeran’s voice speaks from behind him. Baekhyun twists to see her kneeling at the edge of his pallet. She’s got her cloak on, and his own rests in her lap. “But the wind is louder here.”

“Why are you down here?” Baekhyun whispers, pushing himself up on his elbows. “Did the fire go out in my room?”

“No,” Hyeran answers. “I just… the storm woke me.” She twists her fingers in the fabric of Baekhyun’s cloak.

“Are you scared?” he whispers, sitting up fully. He reaches out to brush a wayward strand of hair back from her face.

“No,” Hyeran says. 

Baekhyun sighs. “We have to leave in the morning. You should be sleeping. It’s a hard ride to get there in time.” He sets his hands on top of hers, intending to soothe her, but instead he feels her energy buzzing wildly under her skin.

“I know,” Hyeran admits, her voice a bit breathless. “But I… there’s so much energy here right now, and I…” 

Baekhyun grips her hands tighter. There’s only tonight left. He can’t waste it on sleep. “Tell me, princess,” he questions. “Have you ever played in the rain?”

Hyeran shakes her head, but there’s already a grin stealing its way onto her face.

“There aren't storms like this in the kingdom,” she says. “And besides, I would never be allowed outside if there were.”

Baekhyun groans. “You really have lived a bloodydamn boring life before me,” he decides.

“A less dangerous one,” Hyeran confirms.

“Are you mad about that?” Baekhyun asks.

Hyeran shakes her head and twists her hands out of Baekhyun’s grip to hold his wrists instead. “Never,” she declares. She meets his eyes. “The storm seems dangerous too.”

Baekhyun grins, grabbing his cloak from her. “Alright then, princess. Let’s do another fucking dangerous thing.”

He trips his way into his boots and barely manages to get his cloak secured around his shoulder before Hyeran is pulling him outside. It’s cold, the wind brutal, but within the weather ward placed around the house, it’s bearable. The rain is softer here, not quite as piercing.

“This doesn’t seem dangerous,” Hyeran says, squinting up into the sky.

“Wait just a moment,” Baekhyun responds, also looking up. He can feel the air beginning to heat and scream, and he drops his gaze to Hyeran’s face in time to watch a bold strike of lightning reflect in her eyes. She grabs onto him, body pressed against his. 

“This,” she murmurs, her breath warm in contrast to the wind against his jaw. “This is what woke me.” She’s not talking about the lightning. She’s not talking about noise of the storm. She’s talking about the energy that resonates with it, raw and unsuppressed. It spins under Baekhyun’s skin just as much as it resonates around him, and he can feel it in Hyeran’s magical presence too. 

“Can we go outside the wards?” she asks, and Baekhyun snorts into laugher. They’re already soaked through from the rain, and she wants to go further into the storm. 

He loves her so much.

“That’s where danger is,” he teases.

“Then that’s where we’re going,” Hyeran states, and she races out. The wards flash as she passes through them, and Baekhyun runs after her. He knows where she’s going the moment she leaves the wards, her drenched cloak dancing in the strong wind coming from the cliffs. She loves it out here, and Baekhyun hates that she can’t just stay. 

“Look up, sorcerer's son!” Hyeran shouts, and Baekhyun doesn’t in time for her to release a ball of water into his face. He gasps and sputters, stumbling. 

“You’ll fuckin’ regret that, sweetheart!” he promises, gathering his own attack. He gathers mud from the ground, and Hyeran screams, holding out her hands. She deflects his attack with her magic, and throws the energy from the shield his way. Baekhyun spins with it, turning to send it back to her. Hyeran laughs, her hands filled with pale blue.

“Do you know how to dance?” she asks, and the magic fades from her hands as she reaches for him. The rain and the wind aren’t much of a song, but it hardly matters. Baekhyun steps willingly into her hold, taking her hand and spinning her around. He pulls her back in against him and presses her into a dip, her long hair tossed in the wind. 

“Only how the slum rats do,” he says, apologetic.

“Then you can teach me,” Hyeran breathes, and Baekhyun pulls her back upright.

“There’s no rules this time,” he tells her.

“Good,” Hyeran says, letting him spin her again. She steps back in against him. “There are too many rules in court dances.”

“Follow along then, my lady,” Baekhyun challenges, and he presses her to step back and to the side. She steps on his toes a few times, but she’s laughing. The rain is harsh, but it doesn’t stop them. The storm is nothing but limitless energy, ringing in Baekhyun’s ears until he feels drunk with it.

“Come on,” Hyeran pants. “The cliffs.” She breaks away from Baekhyun, and energy gathers in her hands, blue spinning in elegant fingers. 

The familiar game of passing energy is so much more exhilarating in the storm, lightning raging around them, flashing with each pass of their magic between them. 

The cliffs loom ahead of them, and they come to stand closer and closer together as the space becomes limited. Baekhyun holds his hands in front of him, stopping the energy between them. It spins and doubles in on itself, never dying. If he were to hold out his hand in the middle of it and Hyeran did the same, their fingertips would just barely touch. 

“So this is what the cliffs really are,” Hyeran says, but she’s looking at Baekhyun. He can’t look away from her. Another bolt of lightning flashes overhead.

“This is why only original magic-users can survive here,” Baekhyun tells her.

“This doesn’t seem like exile to me,” Hyeran tells him. “This is the closest thing to freedom I’ve ever felt.” Her eyes are bright. “I’m so happy you brought me here.”

Baekhyun swallows. He can’t decide if smiling or crying is the better response right now. The wind roars, and the waves crash. The spray reaches all the way to the cliffs, crashing over them. The water fizzles the second it comes into contact with the magic still spinning between them, and Baekhyun takes a step closer. Hyeran copies him.

“If we get any closer,” Hyeran whispers, the storm nearly snatching her words away, “I wonder if…” She doesn’t get to finish her thought. 

Lightning screams from the clouds and crashes into their magic. The blues match perfectly, and Hyeran startles, dropping her control. Baekhyun lets go too, and the lightning is gone. It’s energy, it’s perfect, untainted power, fills Baekhyun, and when he looks at Hyeran, her hand clutched to her chest and blue sparks reflected in her eyes, he thinks she feels it too.

“Are you okay?” he asks, reaching for her. She steps in against him, head tilted back. 

“I wonder if I’ve ever felt this wonderful,” she breathes. When she speaks, her lips ghost over his, and Baekhyun may be dragonborn, may be a powerful user of original magic, but he’s just a man.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, and Hyeran’s eyes fall shut.

It’s _lightning._

Baekhyun can feel the energy of the storm and taste of the chill of the rain against her mouth, and he pulls her in tighter. He winds an arm around her waist, supporting her, holding her tightly, lost in the thrum of energy dancing between them. He slides his fingers into her hair, and her own arms wrap around his neck. The storm could stop or rage harder, and Baekhyun thinks he wouldn’t notice, too caught up in the melody of her.

He draws back only a moment, and Hyeran blinks her eyes open.

“Kiss me again,” she asks, and Baekhyun can’t say no. He kisses her with more than just desire, more than just the energy of the storm. He’s wanted her since the moment he first saw her, but he wants her to want him just as much. He wants to be drunk on her, for this moment to be the last memory he thinks of when he dies.

He’s so in love.

He’s not sure who breaks away, and he must really be lost in the energy of the storm and the beauty of her because he’s not sure exactly how they make it back to his house, or how many times they stopped to kiss again. He’s memorized the feel of Hyeran’s mouth, but he can’t get enough of it.

This time, Hyeran leaves her cloak and boots scattered on the entryway floor beside Baekhyun’s, and she doesn’t give him the option of not coming up the stairs with her. She looks nervous again, but she still lets him press her to the door of his room and kiss her again.

“Can we…?” she manages when he draws back for just a moment to catch his breath. Her hand finds the door knob, and they stumble inside together.

His room is filled with her energy and his body with want.

Magic spins in the air, and Baekhyun lets Hyeran whisk the water from his clothes. The warmth of the fire in the room is pleasant, but her touch is warmer, hands against his neck and lips against his. It’s simple magic to draw the water from her clothing too, and it’s a good thing it is. Baekhyun’s control is slipping; he can feel his magic surging in the air with the strength of the storm outside. 

He holds Hyeran close, cradling her head as he walks them back. Hyeran slips from his hold to sit on his bed, and Baekhyun tries to steady his breathing, watching her untie the top layer of her dress with trembling fingers. The plain gray fabric of her undershirt and skirt look silver in the next flash of lightning, and Hyeran’s face is beautiful in the firelight. The slightest hint of her silk chemise peeks out of her collar, and Baekhyun reaches out to stroke his thumb along her neck.

Hyeran shifts away from him, laying back on the bed. Her hair, still wet, fans out across the pillows.

“Kiss me,” she pleads, reaching out for him, and Baekhyun goes, crawling over her to kiss her again. He doesn’t try to be gentle, doesn’t try to treat her like he imagines any other princess would want to be treated. He just gives her kiss after kiss, mapping out her mouth and letting her tug at his tunic until the ties are hanging open, his shirt hanging uncomfortably loose.

He lifts away from her for just a moment to tug his tunic and shirt over his head, dropping them unceremoniously on the floor. He catches himself with his hands on either side of her shoulders, staring down at her.

“This scar?” Hyeran asks, quiet. Her lips are a bit swollen and red, her skin flushed. Her fingers trace out the burn on Baekhyun’s side.

“This isn’t the time for that story,” Baekhyun says, and he kisses away any protest Hyeran could have had. Her hands run from his sides to his back, nails sharp against his skin. It sends a thrill through Baekhyun, and he aches to press himself Hyeran.

He restrains himself. Her touch is too tentative even if her kisses are anything but.

It’s driving him crazy.

He slips his hand underneath her, tugging gently at the ties holding the top of her dress together. She flinches, hands leaving Baekhyun’s skin. She tilts her head back to break away from kissing him. Baekhyun ducks his head immediately to mouth at her neck instead.

“I won’t,” he whispers against her neck, soothing her. “I promise.” He pulls his hand away, squeezing her side once and enjoying the way her body arches with his touch. She’s not ready, he tells himself, and he’s not in the business of convincing princess’s to do things they may regret.

It would kill Baekhyun for Hyeran to regret anything with him. He doesn’t want to be in her bad memories.

“I-” Hyeran starts. “I just-”

“It’s up to you,” Baekhyun promises. “It’s always been about you.”

Hyeran watches his face, eyes flickering like she’s looking for something. Baekhyun doesn’t know if she finds it, but she kisses him again. It’s gentler this time but no less powerful.

“We have to leave tomorrow,” she murmurs against his jaw, and Baekhyun knows that. If he could halt time and never reach tomorrow, he would do it in a heartbeat. Another few minutes pass with languid kisses, lazy touches that never escalate no matter how badly Baekhyun might want them to.

He draws back.

“I don’t want you to go,” he admits, nuzzling into her hair. He settles down beside her, and she curls into his hold.

“I don’t want to go,” Hyeran says.

“But you have to,” Baekhyun finishes.

“I have to,” she confirms.

“You have to,” Baekhyun echoes, trying to convince himself to be okay with that.

Even after Hyeran falls asleep, wrapped around him as much as he is around her, Baekhyun’s eyes don’t feel heavy. He would rather be exhausted tomorrow than miss a second of his last night with the princess.

*

Baekhyun jolts awake when the blankets are suddenly ripped from the bed, cold air against bare skin. He sits up, blindly grabbing for the covers.

“Turns out you are wearing pants,” Baekhyun’s father’s voice reaches him through the haze of sleep. “That’s unexpected.” Baekhyun squints.

“You’re not Hyeran,” he grumbles as his father’s face swims into focus. 

His father snorts. “No. She’s waiting on you to wake up.”

Baekhyun groans, stretching his arms over his head and arching his back. “Where is she?” he asks, memories of last night, of Hyeran’s hands on his skin and her mouth against his, seem to be sewn into the fabric of his sheets. He scratches at them absently.

“The cliffs,” his father answers. “I suppose she wants to say goodbye.”

“She should have woken me up so we could leave,” Baekhyun mutters, snatching up his shirt and tunic from the floor. “It’s a hard ride if she’s wanting to make it by tomorrow night.” He starts tying up the front of his tunic and huffs in frustration when he realizes he forgot to tuck his shirt into his pants first. 

“I woke her, actually,” his father says. Baekhyun pauses.

“What?”

“Fix your shirt,” his father directs, “and then meet me downstairs.” Baekhyun stares after his father in confusion as he leaves, not bothering to close Baekhyun’s door behind him. 

“What in the seven,” Baekhyun grumbles to himself, finishing fixing up his clothes and running his hands through his unruly hair. It’s getting too long, but at least he’s not having to tie his back in a tiny bun at the nape of his neck like Jongdae. He stumbles down the stairs, still trying to work his head around the fact that his father walked in on him asleep with a girl and managed to get her out of his room without waking him. Seriously, what the fuck?

“Papa?” Baekhyun calls, grabbing his boots from the entrance.

“In my study,” his father responds, and Baekhyun trips his way into his boots as he makes his way over to the open doors to his father’s study.

“Okay,” Baekhyun announces, stepping inside. “I’m here.”

His father just nods and points at the bench in front of his desk. Baekhyun sits, and his father sits in his own chair. Sitting on the desk between them is the book with the plain cover, the spine etched with only the first understanding of the circle of original magic.

“You’ve made quite the mistake, my son,” his father says, reaching out and tapping his fingers against the cover of the book. Baekhyun sighs. His father has told him this in many variations since he came here with Hyeran.

“I am aware,” Baekhyun says.

“I’m not sure you really understand,” his father says. “Or you do, but the magnitude hasn’t quite made itself known to you.” Baekhyun crosses his arms. “We are men of no land. No power. We own nothing, and she owns everything inside the kingdom walls. You can’t offer that girl anything but your life.” 

“I know,” Baekhyun repeats, looking away from his father. “I know that. But it’s my choice to-”

“I’m not stopping you from choosing what you think is necessary,” his father cuts him off. “Even if I don’t understand, I am still your papa.” The sorrow in his father’s voice when he speaks next makes Baekhyun’s chest ache. “I will always love you no matter what.”

Baekhyun swallows hard. “Papa, I-”

“I want to show you something,” his father interrupts again, and Baekhyun is almost grateful for it. He doesn’t really know what to say; he’s not sure there’s much left he can say. His father knows as well as him what trouble he’s gotten himself into.

Baekhyun’s father’s fingers shower sparks of blue onto the cover of the book, and the pages ruffle and flip, settling somewhere just past the middle of the book.

“Look,” his father encourages, leaning back. Baekhyun stands, peering down at the page. An intricate drawing of tree branches looks back at him, dragon script characters inked along the grain. “This tree has gone on for generations,” his father explains. We waves his hand, and the book flips to the first page. Chen’s name is inscribed along the same tree’s trunk alongside. “This is his legacy.” The pages flip back to the original page his father had opened to book to, and Baekhyun leans in a little closer to read his father’s name and his mother’s name tangled on the same branch. On a new branch, extended from theirs, Baekhyun’s name is written. An empty space waits beside it.

The pages turn one more time, and the next page is blank except for a few fallen leaves.

“It ends here,” his father says, shaking his head. His eyes shine with unshed tears, and Baekhyun reaches out to take the book from the desk, sitting down hard on the bench. He flips the pages back and forth, biting his lip harder every time he finds a section of the tree that has died.

The last living section of the tree is the one where his name resides.

“Oh,” he whispers.

“Knowing this,” his father speaks, “I can’t help but wonder why you chose to teach that girl your magic.” Baekhyun touches the empty space next to his name, reserved for his chosen lover. 

“I-” he starts. He stops. “I don’t think it would have changed anything, even if I knew.”

“No,” his father agrees. “I don’t think it would have either.” Baekhyun watches his name on his own branch shiver, a cold wind seeming to blow through the book. 

“The cliffs aren’t meant to be survived,” Baekhyun whispers.

“No,” his father repeats.

Baekhyun sets the book down, still open to the page with his family members’ names. He takes a deep breath. “I made a promise,” he begins, catching his father’s eyes. “To the dragons.”

His father nods. “I thought you might ask this,” he says. Baekhyun shrugs.

“I love her,” he admits, the words far too easy and far too painful. His father looks like he is about to cry, and Baekhyun hopes he doesn’t. He won’t be able to keep himself together if he watches his father fall apart.

“You won’t be able to keep that promise then,” his father murmurs in understanding. Baekhyun shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. His father stands then, walking around his desk and gripping Baekhyun’s arm to pull his to his feet. Baekhyun’s meets his father’s embrace, holding onto him tightly. They stand at the same height, the same build, but in this moment, Baekhyun feels impossibly small.

“I will see the stone returned,” his father promises. “We can dishonor Chen’s memory by leaving it in royal hands.” Baekhyun nods against his father’s shoulder. His father holds him a little tighter and then steps away.

“Goodbye, papa,” Baekhyun says. He bows his head to his father, and his father’s hands land on his shoulders.

“I love you, son,” his father says. “Now go to your lady dove.” Baekhyun hesitates for one long moment where he pretends he never entered the castle in the first place, and then he walks out of the study, unable to look back lest he break.

When the door to the house closes behind him, it feels like the beginning of the end.

Baekhyun fetches the horses and snags an apple from his mother’s tree, savoring every bite. He walks to the cliffs with the horses trailing behind him, their saddlebags loaded for a one-way journey. He’s glad they’re healthy; Minseok will be happy to have his horses returned to him.

Hyeran stands facing the water when Baekhyun arrives, and though she doesn’t turn to greet him, her hand finds his, fingers linked together.

Baekhyun breathes with her, simply standing facing the sea as the sun rises fully into the sky. It’s not too cold today, the wind not quite as brutal. Their noses are still red, but Hyeran’s hand is warm against his, their magic buzzing between them.

“Did you want me?” Hyeran asks in a soft voice without preamble. Baekhyun lifts an eyebrow, turning to look at her. “Last night,” she clarifies, her cheeks red with wind and blush. 

“You’re fucking impossible to resist, princess,” Baekhyun tells her, and the honesty in his voice surprises even him. Hyeran doesn’t face him, but she doesn’t shy away from his response either. When they first met, she would have ducked her head to hide her furious blush. Now, she show a grin to the sea, tossing her hair back over her shoulder.

“Really?” she presses for confirmation.

“Yeah,” Baekhyun says. He’ll probably always wants her. “But it’s better this way.”

“Why?” Hyeran asks, but it doesn’t sound like an argument. She’s the one who stopped him; she’s the one with a kingdom to return to and rules to live by.

Baekhyun chooses not to tell her that he doesn’t want her to regret him, chooses not to tell her that he would hate himself for making her do something she’s unsure about. He says instead, “Something tells me you going back to the palace pregnant is the same as sending back a corpse.”

He’s not sure what reaction he expected to that, but Hyeran going quiet, a crease on her forehead in thought, is definitely not it. “A dragonborn raised in the palace,” she murmurs quietly. “Who would hate that more? My father or yours?”

Baekhyun doesn’t say anything, just strokes his thumb over her knuckles and stands there drinking in the last moment they have to share on this cliff.

He thinks if he doesn’t ever speak, they might stand here until they both turn to stone, eternal in their desire to stay. He sighs.

“We should go.”

Hyeran nods, but her grip on his hand tightens, holding him in place for another few breaths.

“I want this feeling forever,” she says, quiet but sure. Baekhyun waits for her to say more, and when she does, dragon speak whispers from her mouth in a near perfect accent. “ _Freedom and magic._ ”

Baekhyun’s heart pounds. Dragonspeak is an interesting language: the word for magic is the same word for love. He wonders if Hyeran would choose those words if she knew that.

“ _Freedom and magic,_ ” Hyeran repeats. _Freedom and love,_ Baekhyun hears.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Me too.” Hyeran looks at him then, smiling even though her eyes are sad.

“Okay,” she says. “Let’s go.”

Baekhyun has a hard time convincing himself to let go of Hyeran’s hand to help her mount her horse, but once she’s seated on the stallion, her cloak spread out behind her, he can see again so easily exactly how royal she is. Even in commoner clothing, she looks absolutely regal.

Maybe it’s because she was born to be queen; maybe it’s because she’s completely taken over him.

Baekhyun steps away from the stallion’s side and takes a bit of a running leap, grabbing his mare’s reins and swinging himself up into the saddle. He digs his heels into the horse’s side.

“Follow me, princess,” he says, forcing a smile onto his face. 

“Wait,” Hyeran calls after him. Baekhyun draws his mare to a halt.

“What the fuck now?” he asks.

“I need to say goodbye to your father,” Hyeran says. “I’ll catch up. I’ll follow your magical presence.” Baekhyun doesn’t argue, kicking his horse’s sides again. His mare picks up into a trot, and Hyeran takes off back towards Baekhyun’s childhood home. Baekhyun keeps himself angled towards the kingdom. He can’t look at his home or he won’t leave. He needs to get to where he can’t see his home as fast as he can. 

There’s no turning back now.

His house has become nothing more than a speck in the distance when Hyeran catches up to him, urging Baekhyun to direct his horse to gallop alongside her brother. His mare is more fresh than the stallion, and Hyeran lags behind. Still, it’s the two of them once again racing across the plains together. They can’t run forever; the horses won’t make it. The wind whips their cloaks out behind them, the sun bright in their eyes.

The weather is unfairly nice for such a sad day. 

Silence is the third member of their party as they travel, conversation hard to want to engage in when any word they say could be followed by farewells. Even when they’ve slowed to a brisk walk, they stay silent. Baekhyun keeps his senses buried in Hyeran’s magic, copying her breathing pattern.

They sleep under the stars, wrapped up together with wards to protect them from the elements. Hyeran creates a flow of water for the horses while Baekhyun builds a dome of warmth and quiet. Their magic entwines in the air, stealing Baekhyun’s breath from his lungs.

He’s going to miss this.

They rise with the sun, and if the silence yesterday had been companionable, today it’s oppressive. This is it.

It’s not until the southern walls of the kingdom come into sight that Hyeran breaks the silence, calling Baekhyun’s name. Her voice almost startles Baekhyun into tumbling off his horse, and he gasps, jerking himself free of sullen thoughts.

“Baekhyun,” she calls again, hiding her giggles behind a hand as he tries to calm his racing heart. “I want to tell you something.”

“Yeah?” Baekhyun asks.

Hyeran takes a breath, and her cheeks are a little too flushed again. “I saw something,” she says, and Baekhyun’s eyes dart out to the kingdom’s walls, looking for any sign of danger. “Not here,” Hyeran corrects. “In your house.”

Baekhyun looks her, waiting for her to continue. The corners of her mouth are turned up, her eyes focused on her hands holding her horse’s reins. 

“It was when I went back to say goodbye to your father,” Hyeran continues. “I saw something, and I may have ruined it, but I couldn’t resist.” She doesn’t sound sincere at all when she says, “I’m sorry.”

Baekhyun chews on the inside of his cheek, confused. “What was it?”

“A little dream of mine,” Hyeran says vaguely, looking back ahead of them again. “You’ll see it.” 

“Hyeran,” Baekhyun presses, a pleading tone to his voice, but she shakes her head once, her secretive smile still in place. Baekhyun sighs but lets her keep this one; he’s kept enough from her including the fact that whatever she’s talking about, he’ll never see. “Okay,” he acquiesces. “Let’s just get you home.” 

Hyeran doesn’t appear particularly excited about that, but she dips her head in consent anyway. Baekhyun digs his heels a little into the mare’s sides again, and she picks up into a canter. The southern entrance draws near, barely guarded. This is where the slums are poorest, this is where young boys plant their street lord roots.

“Stay close to me,” Baekhyun orders. “None of these guards are magic users, so it’s easy to fool them.”

Hyeran obeys, bringing her horse in right beside Baekhyun. “What are you going to do?”

“Your last lesson.” Baekhyun smirks. Hyeran’s eyes are finally bright after the last two days of unshed tears. “Manipulating the light.” He drags one hand through the air, and he feels Hyeran’s magic automatically following along with his direction. He reaches back and pulls his hood up.

“You too,” he directs, pointing at his hood. Hyeran nods, pulling her hood low to cover her face. “I don’t want anyone to recognize you once we get inside.” Hyeran’s dark hair tumbles from her hood, just as tangled as any slum rat’s. 

Baekhyun breathes and slips his magic into the sunlight, twisting it around them to hide their image in a bright glare. He hears Hyeran’s slight murmur of awe, and he feels proud even now that he can impress her. He beckons her forward.

The southern gate is wide open, one guard stationed on either side. The guards care little for slum rats going in and out of the kingdom. Nothing awaits anyone outside of the kingdom but death, and no one is going to miss a few slum rats.

Baekhyun’s head nearly reaches the gate’s low arch when he’s sitting on horseback, but he doesn’t duck. He’s not going to lower head in a place where people know him as Lord Chen’s right hand. He’s not the sorcerer's son here until Jongdae’s loud mouth outs him. 

“Welcome to the slums,” Baekhyun says with a dash sarcasm in his voice the moment they clear the gates. Slowly, he drops the illusion around them, and even if he can’t see Hyeran’s face under her hood, he can sense her magic fluctuating.

“This is…” She looks side to side, and she tangles her fingers in her horse’s reins. “This is not what I expected,” she finally settles on. 

“Just a tiny fuckin’ bit different from the merchant areas,” Baekhyun says. “You ain’t been out this far before. These are the real bloodydamn slums.” He imagines Hyeran is glaring at him from under her hood. Her magic flares. “Fucking contain your magic, girlie,” Baekhyun hisses. “You don’t want to fucking show out here.” He nods his head in the direction of some guards. 

“I’m the princess,” Hyeran whispers back. “They won’t touch me.”

“You’re a fucking original bloodydamn magic user,” Baekhyun counters. “And fuck me if you really think these ratshit metal men would recognize you. They’re all slum rats too.” 

Hyeran’s magical presence recedes, hidden in her blood. Baekhyun does the same, hiding himself as just another slum rat. Baekhyun guides Hyeran through the slums, heading into friendly territory.

“Who the fuck owns horses around here?”

Or, supposed to be friendly. 

Beside him, Hyeran’s grip on the reins turns white.

“Easy,” he whispers to her.

“Minor lords looking for a girlie to fuck,” answers the same voice as had asked the question. The jangle of bracelets accompanies the footsteps of slum rats crawling from their hiding places, all wielding knives. “Merchants hoping to make a ratshit trade with the lowest of the low.”

Baekhyun sighs and rolls his eyes.

“ _Chen_ ,” Baekhyun speaks with the most flat, unimpressed voice he can muster, shoving back his hood. “Even you can’t fucking recognize me?” He looks up, squinting as Jongdae standing on the roof of a rickety bakery. His jaw drops open. Beside him, Sunyoung shakes her head, mouthing a few choice words to her lover’s idiocy. 

“What in the seven,” Jongdae’s voice practically screeches, jumping down. “Alchemy boy makes his grand return?” He laughs, waving his hands to call off his followers. They’re all backing away anyway. They know not to touch Baekhyun. “Lady Luna, darling, get down here.”

“Lord Chen, _darling_ ,” Sunyoung retorts, “You’re a disgrace.” She jumps down though, her elemental magic spinning around her. Hyeran gasps, the opening of her hood switching between watching Jongdae and watching Sunyoung. Baekhyun would be jealous if he didn’t know that he could easily best the two of them in a show of magical prowess. 

“I see you two are still so very fucking much in love,” Baekhyun snorts, watching Jongdae’s arm wrap around Sunyoung’s waist. Baekhyun’s mare takes a few prancing steps, snorting too. Jongdae grins.

“I kind of thought you’d found a new street lord to back,” Jongdae fake mopes, leaning against Sunyoung. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, exile.”

The word draws the attention of a few passersby, and Sunyoung flicks Jongdae’s forehead, fingers sparkling with magic. Baekhyun sighs as Jongdae yelps. “See, this is fuckin’ why I don’t come visit.”

Jongdae waves a dismissive hand. “Who’s the girl?” he asks, still loud as ever. Baekhyun glances over at Hyeran, contemplating guarding her appearance with illusionary shadows as Jongdae nears her horse, peering up at her.

“Just a friend I met,” Baekhyun allows. Jongdae’s curious expression turns into a frown.

“Yeah, the thing is,” he murmurs, fingers curling in the stallion’s bridle, “I’m remembering your fascination with the palace, and I’m thinking about some interesting thing Minseok said.” He steps away from Hyeran, nearing Baekhyun instead. “And you’re telling me this is just some fucktoy friend?”

“Not a fucktoy,” Baekhyun counters. “If you’ve been speaking to Minseok, you’d know better.”

“I only know that Minseok has been talking to some people about interesting things,” Jongdae reveals. “I overheard something about a princess?”

Hyeran flinches, and Baekhyun’s blood runs cold, and he glances over at Hyeran to see her peering at him from behind her hood, biting her bottom lip in worry. 

“Baekhyun,” she whispers, concern lacing her voice. Baekhyun holds up a hand to stop her speaking.

“So he wasn’t full of rat shit,” Jongdae murmurs. “The palace guards have been out here, exile.”

“Fuck,” Baekhyun spits. “That fucking piece of fucking rat shit. He sold me out?” Jongdae lowers his head, and Sunyoung nods.

“We haven’t been able to get in contact with him ever since you left,” she explains. “When Jongdae cuaght him selling to the palace, he wanted to kill him, but he’s hiding.”

“That rat fucker,” Baekhyun sneers. If he sees Minseok, he’ll kill him. It’s one thing to sell out Baekhyun; he owes Minseok a lot. Revenge like this after the trouble Baekhyun caused Minseok shouldn’t be as shocking as it is. But this endangers Hyeran too, and that, Baekhyun can’t forgive.

“You should come with me,” Jongdae says. “Hide out until dark.”

Baekhyun feels Hyeran’s displeasure with that statement, but she’s scared too. Her white-knuckled grip on her reins gives that away. Baekhyun glances around, reaching out to touch his fingertips to Hyeran’s elbow. 

“They don’t know my face,” he soothes her. “But that doesn’t mean we should stay. They all know Lord Chen.”

Jongdae grins at that even if fury and worry still darken his eyes. “At your service,” he says with a slight bow.

“Minseok is a mind magic user,” Sunyoung speaks up, drawing Baekhyun’s attention. “You can’t trust that the guards won’t have an image of your face.”

She’s fucking right. Fuck Minseok.

“We need to go,” he speaks with urgency. “If you’re right, then…” He grits his teeth. “Bloodydamn him to the seven.” He adjusts his grip on his horse’s reins. He looks at Jongdae. “We can’t stay with you in your alleys, but we need to get out of the slums.”

Jongdae winks, separating from Sunyoung.

“We’ll watch your back,” he promises. He winks at Hyeran, and Sunyoung rolls her eyes at Baekhyun’s frown. “Don’t worry, princess,” Jongdae adds in a whisper. “Whatever Baekhyun promised you, he’ll make it happen.”

Right now, that means getting back to the palace. For some reason, Baekhyun thinks that’s not what Hyeran thinks of when Jongdae says that. He remembers her words: freedom and magic.

He kicks his heels lightly against his horse’s side, walking forward. In his peripheral vision, he sees Jongdae and Sunyoung scrambling back up to the low rooftops on either side of the dirt street. They creep along quietly, and Baekhyun is grateful for Jongdae and Sunyoung’s presence, their magic drawing attention away from two people riding horseback through the slums. Hidden away on the roofs, they can’t be seen, and creeping out of the alleyways, Baekhyun can see slum rats wearing Jongdae’s bracelets watching out for them too.

They’re nearing the bridge into the inner city, and Baekhyun breathes, begging the still air for the guards at the bridge to not bother to stop them. They _are_ on horseback, and slum rats can’t afford such luxury. With any luck they won’t be questioned.

Luck has never been Baekhyun’s companion. They make their way onto the last street leading to the bridge to the inner city, and Baekhyun groans. Ahead of them, red capes hung over their shoulders, palace guards stand on the bridge, hands on their swords.

Baekhyun slides his hand down to his thigh, fingers tapping against the pommel of the knife he hides there.

He glances up at Jongdae laying flat on his belly on the last rooftop before the river. Sunyoung crouches opposite him, her eyes sharp. There’s a stillness in the air that comes from multiple magic users trying to suppress their presence. Each of the palace guards ahead has a gem in the pommels of their swords, and Baekhyun closes eyes.

_Fuck._

The wind blows the second Baekhyun’s mare leads him out of the street into the riverwalk, and he grabs for his hood a second too late. The fabric is ripped back from obscuring his face, and he grabs at the afternoon sun to hide himself. Baekhyun turns and sees, a moment far too late, that his hood was not the only one thrown back by the wind.

He forgets himself, leaning over and reaching out to grab Hyeran’s hood and place it back on her head.

A shout halts him.

“Princess!”

Hyeran’s face, expression shocked, eyes wide, is something the palace guards would never mistake. It doesn’t matter if they recognize his face, if Minseok shared his visage with them or not. He’s with the princess unauthorized, a hand outstretched towards her.

“Princess!” a guard shouts again. “Protect her highness!”

Time seems to slow, the ring of swords against scabbards filling the air as the guards rush forward. Their magic sparks and roars to life, war magic directed at Baekhyun. It runs loose, and Baekhyun isn’t going to let Hyeran feel even a spark of wayward magic. He came here to see her returned to the castle safe.

Baekhyun breathes. He’s ready.

Baekhyun shouts back at the guards, releasing a shield of his magic to deflect the war magic attacks. The air spins heavily in Baekhyun’s hands, and he yanks the knife from its sheath on his thigh. 

“Don’t show out,” he hisses at Hyeran, passing her the mare’s reins. 

“Baek-!”

“Don’t!” he orders, throwing himself from the horse’s back. He collides with one of the guards, his feet slamming into his chest plate, knocking him back. Baekhyun follows after him, the flat of his blade pressed along his forearm humming with the heat of the guard’s war magic. He steps in underneath the guard’s next off-balanced swing, slashing his knife quickly through the guard’s gauntlets. His magic splits the metal, the knife slashing clear through to the bone. 

The guard screams. His sword drops to the ground, and Baekhyun spins, ducking underneath another guard’s attack to grab the sword from the ground, bringing it up just in time to parry.

Blue sparks line the edges of the blade, contrasting the topaz in the pommel.

“Exile,” the guard facing him realizes.

“Found me,” Baekhyun sneers, and slips the knife in his left hand around their swords, driving it between the guard’s chest plate and ribs to his heart. A blast sounds behind Baekhyun, and he twists, coming face to face with Jongdae standing on the body of the guard with the cut wrist.

“I mean if Exile’s out,” Jongdae says with a shrug. “I think Lord Chen can come play too.”

“But Hyeran-” Baekhyun starts.

“Luna’s got her,” Jongdae promises. Panic strikes his face at the same time as another guard rushes in at Jongdae’s back. “Behind!” 

Baekhyun steps left, magic bleeding into the bracelets around Jongdae’s wrists. He hears Jongdae’s holler of excitement at the short sword in his hands at the same time as he clashes with the guard running for Jongdae. This one’s sword blazes with his magic, and Baekhyun is forced to parry and retreat, ducking under three swings before he gets his own in. He twists his stolen sword around the one in the guard’s hand, knocking it from his grip. He swings his weapon down hard, driving it halfway through the guard’s neck.

With Jongdae and Baekhyun fighting together, this small team of seven - now four - palace guards isn’t going to win.

“Baekhyun!” Sunyoung cries in warning, and Baekhyun looks up from dropping another guard to the ground to see more palace guards running forward in droves. There has to be at least fifty of them racing along the boardwalk. There’s only a minute before they’ll be upon them.

Baekhyun snarls. He could let himself go completely and tear through most of them. With Jongdae and Sunyoung beside him, he could probably defeat them. 

That is, if letting go doesn’t accidentally kill Jongdae and Sunyoung first. He can’t see them hurt by his magic, and he can’t put Hyeran at risk.

She, most of all, has to be unscathed.

He grabs the guard nearest him and releases a burst of his magic into the guard’s face, knocking him back into the river. The guard’s terrified screams sink under the surface, his heavy armor pulling him down.

“Stop fighting,” Baekhyun orders Jongdae, dropping his sword and knife on the ground. “Get out of here. Take Luna and go.”

“Baekhyun,” Jongdae pants, ripping his short sword free of the last member of the original palace guard party. “What are you-?”

“You and Luna need to get the fuck out of here,” Baekhyun shouts, taking a step forward to face the reinforcements running across the bridge. “You’ll be killed if you stay and fight. They know who you are. The slums won’t survive that.”

“Baekhyun,” Jongdae protests again, but it’s a little weaker. He knows Baekhyun is right, that the slums need the street lords like Jongdae to keep people alive, but he’s still hesitant to leave. Baekhyun understands; he loves Jongdae like a brother too. Still, Baekhyun shakes his head. 

“Luna, get him out of here.”

“Baekhyun!” Jongdae roars again, running towards him. Baekhyun turns to meet his friend, clasping their bloody hands together. “Go, now.” He looks over at Sunyoung, gesturing for her to come and take her lover away. “I can’t let you die here too.”

Jongdae freezes. His hand in Baekhyun’s grip shakes. “You… for the princess…”

“Don’t come for me,” Baekhyun directs even though it sounds like pleading. He offers a weak imitation of a smile. “I’ll see you in the tapestries.”

Jongdae’s face turns to one of utter despair. His alleyways are covered with tapestries, tales of people banished from the official histories told by the palace.

“Baekhyun, you can’t-!”

“Go!” Baekhyun shouts, his magic pushing the two of them back and away from him. Jongdae stares at the space between them, and Baekhyun sends out his magic again, forcing them back. He appreciates Sunyoung for her sorrowful glances even as she drags Jongdae away, the two of them ducking into the alleyways.

“What are you doing?” Hyeran demands from her place on her horse’s back. She makes to climb down, but Baekhyun shakes his head sharply.

“Don’t move,” Baekhyun shouts at her, and Hyeran doesn’t, her eyes flicking between him and guards. Understanding is dawning on her face, and Baekhyun turns back to the river, unable to look at such pain on the princess’ face. The palace guards descend upon him, moving to surround him with their swords drawn. He closes his eyes.

Hands grab his shoulders, and a sword drags through the backs of his legs. Baekhyun grits his teeth, crashing to his knees. He won’t fight. He can’t ruin this for Hyeran. He needs to see her returned safely to the palace. He can’t let her reputation become one of a rebel. A queen still needs to be loved by her people.

“Fucking exile,” is sneered is Baekhyun’s ear, and he hears the crack of chainmail covered hand across his cheek before he feels the sting of it. His head snaps around, his mouth filling with blood. His fights to keep his breathing steady to start healing his wounds. A sword stabs through Baekhyun’s calf, and he breaks, falling forward onto hands and knees, shaking.

“The king is going to be so pleased to see you,” a guard sneers, curling his hand into a fist. “And more pleased with us for catching you.” Baekhyun tries his best not to flinch, not to give this pathetic war magic-user the satisfaction.

“Don’t hurt him!” Hyeran screams. The stallion neighs, clear and demanding alongside his rider’s order. The horse’s shoves through the guards at Hyeran’s direction. Her expression is dark, but Baekhyun can’t feel her magic.

_Good girl,_ he thinks, and then he realizes he told her not to move. “Wait,” he tries to get out. “Wait, Hyeran. Don’t…” 

“I’m unharmed,” Hyeran informs the guards, staring them down from her perch. “And I order you not to touch him.”

“Princess,” one of the guard’s says. “We are under orders from the king.”

“And even if we weren’t,” another adds, “this man is an original magic user. An exile within the kingdom walls faces nothing but death.”

“No!” Hyeran shouts. “You will not-!”

“I’m sorry, princess,” a guard says, and there’s a rustle before Hyeran starts screaming a litany of orders to be released that turn to enraged pleas for Baekhyun’s safety. Baekhyun twists, gritting his teeth at the sword still in his calf tearing deeper through his muscle. He watches guards drag Hyeran from her horse, watches her fight her way out of their hold as best as she can, and he tries to sit up, to help her. This is what should be happening. She’s the princess, and no one deserves to lay their hands on her. A hand grabs the back of his neck, pressing hard enough for Baekhyun’s vision to blur grey at the edges, holding him still.

“Don’t hurt her,” he tries to say, but his mouth is too full of blood and spit.

“Let me go!” Hyeran screams, both arms trapped by a guard on either side. “ _Baekhyun!_ Baekhyun, don’t! Please!” She kicks at the guards holding her to no avail.

“Hyeran,” Baekhyun breathes. “It’s okay.” She can’t hear him, not over her own shouting. His vision is getting darker, his magic weakening the less he’s able to breathe. “It’s okay.”

A pair of boots steps into Baekhyun’s line of vision.

“Shut the fuck up, exile,” the guard sneers. His fist cracks across Baekhyun’s temple, and the echo of Hyeran’s scream follows Baekhyun into blackness.

*

The gray haze of unwelcomed sleep fades with the pounding in Baekhyun’s temples. Even with that continuous ache, it feels like someone is knocking their knuckles against the side of his head and scraping jagged rocks along his side. Something knocks his jaw, tearing the skin, and his eyes finally manage to open through the ringing pain.

Chains tangle his hands and feet, the loose ends of the chains jangling beside Baekhyun’s shoulders. He’s upside-down and also sideways on the ground. The world is a blur of grey stone and torches, the flash of palace guard armor distorted by the glare of the torchlight as Baekhyun is dragged up stone steps.

He’s a captive of the king now, an exile caught within the walls of the kingdom and with the princess in his company.

_Fucked_ might not be strong enough to explain his predicament. 

He grits his teeth, trying to keep his head lifted, but the heavy chains on his shoulders drag him back. His ear catches on a corner of a stone, and his stomach rolls as his skin tears. He clenches his fingers around the chains tying his wrists together, trying to keep his mouth shut.

“This one,” the man leading the two dragging him says. “Throw him in there.” The creak of heavy wood laden with iron bars pierces through Baekhyun’s skull before he’s heaved from the ground. The chain loops around his neck, and his eyes go wide, grabbing for it, trying to breathe.

He’s airborne for less than a second, slamming hard into the ground and skidding back, the thin fabric of his shirt tearing with the impact, his skin catching on the rough stone. His shoulder burns, stinging with grit as he tries to sit up.

His vision is blurry, and the weight of chains keeps him pinned in his nauseous state.

“Don’t miss us, exile bitch,” one of the guards spits, and the minimal light in the dark of the dungeon cell disappears with the slamming of the door. Baekhyun coughs. His mouth tastes of blood and grit, and he swears he can feel dirt in the cuts in his shoulders when he moves. He can’t see anything in the dark of the room, and he’s too nauseous to reach for his magic. 

His head hurts. 

“Shit,” he whimpers, laying back down on the ground. He knew getting captured would suck; he knew it would hurt. He just hadn’t realized exactly how powerless they were going to make him feel. He closes his eyes like it’s going to be some relief from the darkness around him, dropping his head down against the ground. He can’t breathe all that well tangled up like this, the lack of energy in the air around him not aiding him at all.

Baekhyun can’t remember a time he’s ever felt so hopelessly alone. The air always carries some sort of energy, the light a bit of magic. The dungeons are dark and closed off. The air here is still and stuffy. It tastes like dust and death, and Baekhyun curls in on himself, trying desperately to get his blood moving. He’s freezing without his cloak, and the shackles against his skin are like ice. 

Minseok really hid his hate well beneath his pretending to help. His hold on his mind magic is much stronger than Baekhyun had realized. Baekhyun is almost impressed.

He should have seen this coming.

He has no idea how much time is passing by, not even a strip of torchlight visible underneath the closed door. He wonders if the king and his captors really know exactly how well they have cut Baekhyun off from the energy of the world and his access to magic or if this is all just coincidence. Magic has its limitations, he knows, and now he’s more than exceeded them.

If only being dragonborn actually meant he could turn into a dragon.

He snorts to himself, and the action allows him to realize how much his nose hurts. It’s probably broken to match his split lip and ripped ear. He can barely hear his own breathing on that side, the sound rough and scratchy on the other. 

It really doesn’t matter if he loses his hearing. He’s captured: it’s not like the king is going to allow an exile to keep his life. 

Baekhyun only regrets that he won’t be able to see Hyeran free herself from her father’s quest. Then again, he has no idea how long they’re going to keep him here. Maybe he’s just supposed to wither away and starve into nothing but skin and bones for mice to eat. Maybe they’ll be here to kill him in an hour.

He tries to inhale, ignoring the chains pressing on his chest. The air may not hold energy, but if he sleeps, maybe he can gather just enough strength to fight his way out of here. The moment the door opens, light will come in, and with it, energy to access his magic. 

Baekhyun sighs, banishing the thought. He can’t escape from here. He can’t fight the fate he walked right into knowingly. If he rebels, Hyeran will be compromised for working with a traitor. She could be charged with treason, and that’s something Baekhyun cannot allow.

His capture is going to be the concretion of her freedom. If he escapes, it has to be a quiet affair that leaves everyone thinking he’s dead. With the state he’s in right now, that would be impossible.

But Hyeran will be able to fulfill her wish to be free from her father’s attempt to control her life through marriage unless she does something stupid. Baekhyun will willingly walk the seven before he allows Hyeran to give what she wanted just for him.

The chains wrapped around his wrists and ankles and the weight of his eyelids tells him he’s going to walk the seven soon anyway. 

In an earlier time, back when original magic was still secretive but praised, Baekhyun could have been the one to take the title of crown prince consort. He imagines telling Jongdae that he’s marrying into the palace, imagines his friend’s incredulous face. 

He would laugh if he weren’t positive it would just become a fit of weak coughing.

The bolts on the door shift, and Baekhyun strains to sit up. He gives up just as the door opens, choosing instead to stare at the newcomer with the most baleful expression he can manage with blood drying on his cheek. Light streams in from the torches outside, and Baekhyun’s pain feels sharper, more real as he breathes in as much of the energy from the torchlight as he can. 

It’s not much, but it’s enough to ease the pressure on Baekhyun’s chest, letting him breathe again.

The door shuts, and Baekhyun forces himself not to gasp as the energy in the room stills, centered on the single torch held in the newcomer’s hand. Power and energy - healing, by extension - await him just outside the door. How pathetic, he thinks, that he’s so weakened a mere door has become his enemy.

“Sorcerer’s son,” greets Baekhyun with a harsh, scathing tone in the speaker’s voice. Baekhyun’s vision is blurry, and he refuses to squint to see better. “I’ve heard a great many things about you, but I never thought you would be stupid enough to get yourself caught.” The man turns to light the two torches on either side of the door, dropping his own in an iron bucket, snuffing the flames. 

“That makes two of us,” Baekhyun wheezes, and the newcomer gives a startled sort of chuckle.

“Apparently they didn’t beat you hard enough,” he says with a snort, still not facing Baekhyun.

Baekhyun takes the opportunity to shake his head and blink, clearing his vision. When the man turns back to face him, he sees features terribly familiar to the most beautiful woman in the inner city.

“Hani,” Baekhyun grits out.

“Is that what my darling sister calls herself nowadays?” the brother of the woman Baekhyun once tentatively regarded as a friend murmurs. He sounds entirely unsurprised, and Baekhyun doubts he is. He’s the king’s most trusted assassin; there’s probably very little he doesn’t know.

“Minseok treats her well,” Baekhyun says, trying his best to keep his tone light and conversational.

“You speak rather nicely of him for a man who betrayed you to the king,” the assassin says, tone condescending as he stands over Baekhyun. The edges of his cloak brush Baekhyun’s arms, the soles of his boots soft leather that makes no sound when he walks.

“A statement of fact,” Baekhyun counters.

“A statement of fact,” the assassin repeats in a low murmur. He stands still for another moment of contemplation before he reaches down and hauls Baekhyun to his knees, chains rattling. He leans down, holding Baekhyun in place, staring at him with cruel eyes. “Exiles don’t speak fact,” he sneers. He drops Baekhyun hard on his knees, and Baekhyun grits his teeth against the splintering through his bones. The assassin lets out the slightest laugh, and the chains around Baekhyun’s chest fall loose.

“Fact?” The assassin is mocking him, taking pleasure in how Baekhyun’s legs shake fro mthe impact. “Exiles speak with a tongue tainted by illegal magic.” He snorts, leering. “Hard to believe the words of a man who’s had his tongue between the princess’ legs, don’t you think?” His open-handed slap clacks Baekhyun’s teeth hard around his tongue, fresh blood flavoring the stale taste already in his mouth.

Baekhyun wants desperately to gasp for air, but he refuses to show weakness, especially not the brother of the woman whose lover is the reason he tangled in chains. Without the chains around his chest, it’s easier to breathe but also easier to feel how void of energy this room is. The realization hurts more than his aching knees.

A knock echoes on the wooden door, and the assassin’s eyes turn wicked and pleased.

“Enter,” he calls. The door opens again, and Baekhyun strains to pull in as much energy as he can from the sudden influx of light and air. Two guards, heavily armed with topaz in the pommels of the swords strapped to their hips, stomp inside, slamming the door back shut behind them.

The room feels like death again.

It was one thing to face the king’s assassin alone and defenseless, but the king’s assassin alongside two of the king’s knights is another thing altogether. The sensation of hopelessness only heightens how empty he feels without his magic.

“Tie him,” the assassin orders, and the knights both surge forward, grabbing one of Baekhyun’s arms each. They haul him to his feet by the chains around his wrists, and his shoulders scream in protest. His feet only barely brush the floor as he’s hooked to more chains hanging from the ceiling by the ones on his wrists. The knights step back, looking awfully pleased, and Baekhyun’s weight drops fully, his back and shoulders straining.

“His legs too,” the assassin requests, and the knights obey without question, pulling on the chains around Baekhyun’s ankles until he hangs spread eagle and vulnerable. His toes scrape the ground, and he doesn’t have the energy to hold himself up by his arms. Blood dribbles down his chin as he pants, nauseous and lightheaded.

If he just lets himself hang by his wrists, he’ll suffocate. His The assassin clasps his fingers together, and Baekhyun can just barely make out the stain of poison under his nails.

“Lovely,” the assassin praises, stepping forward to grip Baekhyun’s jaw. “The king told me not to kill you, but you almost got my sister killed, you know? An eye for an eye. An almost death for another almost death.” He shrugs, shoving his cloak back from his shoulders. Strapped around his waist is a set of knives with thin blades that would slide so smoothly between the ribs. Baekhyun glares.

“No need for that look,” the assassin continues. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Can’t take responsibility for your own actions, palace mouse?” Baekhyun goads. He scoffs. “The king’s assassin? The king’s fuckin’ pet, more like.”

Metal-covered knuckles crack across Baekhyun’s cheek, and his head snaps to the left, vision spinning with the impact. He breathes hard through his nose, choking on the pain. The knight who had hit him steps back with a lazy wave of the assassin’s hand, and Baekhyun groans internally. He’d gotten distracted, had missed the assassin signalling for the first hit. 

“If you need to beg for mercy,” the assassin announces, stepping in close, “my name is Heechul.” He smiles then, and Baekhyun loathes him. “But there won’t be any mercy.”

“It would be disappointing if there was,” Baekhyun says, forcing back a wheeze and cracking a bloody-toothed smile. Heechul regards him for a long moment, the only sound in the room the shifting of the knights’ armor as they stand awaiting further orders, and then Heechul’s face spreads into a mockery of a grin.

“I do like you,” he declares. He selects a small knife with a blade no wider than his front tooth from the collection wrapped around his waist. The bronze glints in the torchlight, and Heechul reaches up to bend one of Baekhyun’s fingers towards him. “A lot.”

The knife slips underneath Baekhyun’s fingernail, and Heechul wrenches the knife up, slicing through the middle of the nail from underneath.

Baekhyun bites his lip, swallowing back a shout. His whole arm burns with the pain, and he snarls at Heechul, blood warm and uncomfortable as it drips down between his knuckles and over his hand, trailing underneath the chains and staining his shirt.

“Stubborn,” Heechul murmurs, and Baekhyun thinks it might be praise. He drags the knife across Baekhyun’s knuckles, the thin blade slicing easily through the skin in paper-thin cuts. “Tell me, exile,” Heechul continues, eyeing Baekhyun’s hands thoughtfully. “How many of these fingers touched the princess?”

Baekhyun just glares. The knife slips underneath a second nail, not piercing yet, just sitting in warning.

“All of them?” Heechul inquires. “You kidnapped her- there’s no way you didn’t try her out. She’s stunning, and you are just _so weak._ ” The knife cracks through the second nail, and Baekhyun shakes, mouth falling open in a scream he doesn’t have the wherewithal to voice. 

“Bet you couldn’t resist her,” Heechul continues. He grabs a third finger, and Baekhyun doesn't’ even get a second to breathe before he snaps it. “Did you fuck her with this hand?” Another finger is wrenched backwards, the thin bone popping from its socket.

Baekhyun’s stomach churns, and Heechul steps back, twirling his knife around his finger. A bit of blood flies from the knife and splashes onto Baekhyun’s face. He flinches, panting hard, teeth aching from grinding them together.

“It’s good to know you feel pain,” Heechul states. “I almost wondered if original magic users would be like dragons.” He slips the first knife back into place and draws another from his collection. The blade is longer and wider but the edges are just as fine. “If you’d be near impossible to kill.”

He slides the tip of the blade down underneath the collar of Baekhyun’s shirt, and the fabric parts easily. Cold, dead air presses dread fingers against Baekhyun’s stomach, and he shivers, flinching back from the chill of the knife set in warning against his skin.

Baekhyun meets the assassin’s eyes, and Heechul smirks. He flicks his wrist, and the knife carves a circle just over Baekhyun’s heart.

“But you seem to bleed just as easily as anyone else.” Heechul follows that with a larger circle, his blade tracking from Baekhyun’s collarbones down to his navel. Baekhyun hisses, keeping his glare as level as he can.

“Did she touch you?” Heechul asks, starting a line down the center of Baekhyun’s chest. Baekhyun doesn’t answer, focusing just on breathing, on giving in and screaming. “Royal hands on an illegal body. Did you fantasize about her?” He drags the knife down to Baekhyun’s side, pinching his skin. The blade parts his skin easily, the engravings on its side visible through the thin, pierced layer of Baekhyun’s skin.

The assassin jerks the knife back. “A woman like that…” Heechul whistles low, and the knights laugh beside him.

“I’d give up my magic for a night under her skirts,” one of the knights says, and his comrade claps in agreement, metal gauntlets ringing as they clack together.

“I’d forfeit my station,” the other says. He licks his lips. “Royal pussy… I’d pay my life’s wages for the chance to fuck that.”

Baekhyun might be seeing red, or maybe that’s the blood matted on his face. Pain makes it hard to tell the difference.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch her,” he mutters, head falling forward. His voice is little more than an engraged whisper. This is the type of man the king wants to wed to his daughter? “Don’t you...fuckin’- touch-”

Heechul barks out a laugh, grabbing Baekhyun’s chin, forcing him to look at him. “Do you think any of us want to become the king’s next public beheading?” He shakes Baekhyun’s head for him, and the muscles in Baekhyun’s neck complain, the feeling dull compared to the cold knife still being dragged slowly across his chest. Through his haze, Baekhyun can just barely recognize the crude drawing of an altered original magic circle. 

“Better you than me,” Baekhyun manages. He spits blood in Heechul’s face.

“Hit him,” Heechul orders, and the knight on his left steps in. His fist collides hard with the side of Baekhyun’s chest, and a crack echoes in his ears. It’s a long second of gasping for air before Baekhyun realizes his ribs are cracked or dislocated, pressing into his chest so he can’t breathe.

“Again,” Heechul snaps, and this time, Baekhyun breaks, coughing up blood as the chains holding him rattle with the weight of body shifting from the impact. He can’t feel his left arm, his muscles pulled and straining. He’s going to slowly drown in his own blood if this continues.

“Let me tell you something, exile,” Heechul starts, voice dark, no longer holding that edge of humor. It almost comforts Baekhyun to hear complete loathing in the assassin’s tone; it makes him feel like the games are over. Baekhyun squints at him.

“Minseok, Xiumin, whichever you choose to call him, told the king you kidnapped the princess, told him you took her virginity, told him you did it all to get revenge on the king.” Baekhyun won’t be able to do anything but scream if he opens his mouth, so he doesn’t, simply glaring through slitted eyes at the assassin. “I don’t know how much of that is true,” Heechul admits. “My sister didn’t have anything to say on the matter. But I do know that the king asked me to make you feel a little remorse before you’re brought to the guillotine.”

The knights on either side of Heechul chortle, and Heechul waves them into silence.

“Your fingers are to be broken for laying a hand on the princess,” Heechul says. He motions for the knights. “Try not to scream too loudly.”

Baekhyun’s too tired to scream, yet his voice echoes as the knights take turns snapping his fingers, his hands bent at awkward angles. The chains brush the broken bones, and maybe sobbing is a better word than screaming.

“For defiling the princess, you’re to be killed,” Heechul reveals. “But the king told me I’m not to kill you, so a simple defiling on my part will be good enough.” He gestures at the knight to Baekhyun’s left, and the man produces a whip from behind him, the leather barbed and lacquered.

“Ten strikes,” Heechul orders. Baekhyun closes his eyes. The knight’s boots are loud on the stone ground as he moves to stand behind Baekhyun, and the whistle of the whip through the air accompanies the knight’s grunt. Baekhyun bites hard on his lip and groans. 

Nine more strikes feels like walking the seven twice. Baekhyun’s shirt is torn completely away by the fourth strike; the skin of his back feels like its gaping open. The cold is just as painful as the whip. Baekhyun isn’t entirely sure when it ends. Pain blurs his sense of time, and he can’t even bring himself to feel relief that it’s over when the knight whipping him returns to Heechul’s side. The barbed end of the whip is stained with Baekhyun’s blood, splattering it on the stone ground.

“For trying to take revenge on the king, you’re to be exacted with the king’s own revenge.” Heechul brandishes a new knife, this one with a split, jagged tip. He presses it to Baekhyun’s left cheek, dragging a rough line from cheekbone to jaw. “This may hurt, exile.”

All the wounds before, his broken fingers and torn skin, are nothing compared to the agony of other magics being drawn onto and into Baekhyun’s skin. He’s not an elemental magic user, a war magic use, a mind magic user- he’s made for original magic and nothing else. The feeling of such incomplete magics carved deep past skin and into muscle, the blade sometimes scraping over his bones, drives Baekhyun to reach blindly for his magic, for any sort of energy, _anything_ he can use to make this stop.

There is nothing. The torchlight is just enough to keep him breathing, keep his body working. The pain is only heightened by his straining to seek any sort of energy he can.

Still, he doesn’t beg the assassin to stop. Heechul made a mistake when he told Baekhyun he isn’t authorized to kill him. No matter how much it hurts, Baekhyun isn’t about to die right now. He still has a little time, and something about that small taste of hope is enough to keep his mouth shut from asking for mercy.

“There,” Heechul hisses. “Doesn’t he look beautiful?” 

Baekhyun just breathes, ignoring the knights’ laughter of agreement.

“Just one last touch,” Heechul murmurs, pulling a small vial from his pocket. “A parting gift from my sister, I suppose you could call this.” He pops the cork from the vial, and the scent of peppermint makes Baekhyun want to throw up. 

“Poison was always something Heeyeon was far more talented at,” Heechul states, dumping the contents of the vial over Baekhyun’s shoulders. “It takes a couple seconds for the effects to begin, but that’s kind of the beauty of it.” He tosses the vial aside, and the glass shatters somewhere in the room. “How do you feel?”

Baekhyun screams.

The liquid, a light poison, burns as it seeps into Baekhyun’s skin and blisters where it comes into contact with his open wounds, urging the cuts to dig deeper into Baekhyun’s body all while feeling like they’ve been cauterized.

Baekhyun shakes and thrashes, the chains rattling with his flailing. He wants to crawl out of his own skin. He wants to be back on the cliffs with Hyeran in his arms. 

Heechul rubs the poison deeper into his skin, dumping a second vial over his head. Baekhyun squeezes his eyes shut, and a sense of vertigo makes it impossible to tell if he’s still standing or if he’s even alive.

“Don’t worry, exile,” the assassin’s voice bounces off the ground and rings in Baekhyun’s ears. “You won’t have to be here long. The princess’ birthday is tomorrow. We’ll celebrate with wine and separating your head from your shoulders.”

His glee only makes the poison simmer, and Baekhyun’s stomach heaves. He holds his breath, forcing his body to calm.

“Don’t bother to bring him food or water,” Heechul orders. “There’s a royal wedding coming up, you know? That’s a huge cost to the crown.” He smile is sardonic as he pats Baekhyun’s torn cheek. “Waste not; want not.”

Chain links clink and boots slap on the cold stone ground. The torches are snuffed. The door opens and the door shuts. The chilled stones are almost soothing on Baekhyun’s blistered and torn skin, and he isn’t even sure how he made it back to the ground, chains wrapped around his chest again.

His eyes are heavy, and his body hurts. Sleep welcomes him with the sweet promise of black oblivion and dreams of Hyeran’s bright smile and brighter laughter.

*

It’s impossible to know what time of day it is or how long it’s been since the king’s assassin and the knights left him when Baekhyun’s only company is the dark of his dungeon room. His body shakes from the cold and the ache of pain, sometimes sharp and sometimes dull. His ears are still ringing, and the faint strip of torchlight showing under the door is nothing more than a cruel tease.

He tries to concentrate on the pressure of the stones stacked on top of each other to build the palace, but this high in the dungeons, the effects isn’t much to draw from. 

His father would be so disappointed if he saw Baekhyun now: an original magic user fallen prey to those who practice blasphemous magics. He was willingly taken for the sake of the legitimacy of a princess’ claim and defeated by a king who has never understood what Baekhyun’s magic really is.

It would also break his father to see him now, and Baekhyun think his father knowing what he’s run off to do is already more than the man should have to bear.

Baekhyun wonders if after she claims the throne, Hyeran will be able to practice originally magic or if she’ll be too trapped in the prejudice of her people to use it ever again.

Baekhyun’s eyes flutter shut, unconsciousness a less forbidding blackness. 

It could be less than a minute or it could be a few hours later when he’s stirred by the quiet creaking of the door’s hinges. The sound disappears a second later, but the light coming into the room now is very real and very bright. 

Baekhyun squints up a hooded figure and unease clenches his gut before he sees the gleam of rubies dangling just within the depths of the hood. He blinks, and a familiar face swims into focus just as his favorite voice reaches him.

“Baekhyun!” Hyeran exhales, dropping her torch on the stone floor. She rushes forward, falling to her knees in front of him. The hood falls back from her face, her cloak flaring around her.

“Hyeran,” Baekhyun croaks. He wants to reach for her, to assure her he’s fine. It would all be a lie, and her glassy eyes won’t believe him anyway. “Hyeran-”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Hyeran murmurs, hands on his shoulders, his cheeks, his neck. “I’m here.”

“Hyeran, why-?” He tries to ask what she’s doing here, why she’s taking the risk to see him, but all he gets is a weak cough. 

“Baekhyun,” Hyeran breathes again, and in the dim light of her dying torch, he can make out . “Look at- what in the seven… Baekhyun.” She leans over him, cradling his face. “What have they done to you?”

Baekhyun does his best to smile even though his cheek is too swollen to make more than half of a smirk. “Nothing nice,” he answers. Hyeran doesn’t appear to appreciate his humor, eyes scanning his body.

“Fuck,” she whispers, eyes widening as she takes in the scabbing lines and the dried blood along Baekhyun’s torso. She gathers him into her arms, pulling him up so he’s propped against her legs. He leans heavily against her shoulder, and her energy floods the space between them and around them. Baekhyun pants as he breathes it in, head angled awkwardly to keep his bloody ear from dragging against the fabric of her cloak.

“Your face…” Hyeran murmurs, the pads of her fingers soft against the tear in Baekhyun’s cheek. He feels the warmth of her energy seep into his skin, and he grabs onto it before he can stop himself, body doing its best to keep him alive.

“Don’t I look… pretty?” Baekhyun tries, gasping. His ribs are still dislocated, straining his breathing, and he coughs. Hyeran waves a hand around the room, and the torches light, bright orange flooding the drab interior, bringing to focus exactly how torn Baekhyun’s skin really is.

“No,” Hyeran murmurs, but Baekhyun doubts she's really answering his question, voice too quiet and unfocused. “Look what my father…” She trails out, swallowing hard.

“If it’s any consolation,” Baekhyun murmurs, struggling to talk with his ribs out of place, “it wasn’t... your father who actually…”

“I know who did this,” Hyeran interrupts. “But Heechul doesn’t do anything this violent just for fun. My father ordered this done.” Her fury, her worry, raises her energy, makes it spin. She focuses on the chains tangled around his ankles, and with a harsh curse, she snaps them. 

The metal rattles and clanks as its torn apart, scattering across the ground of the cell.

“Don’t-” Baekhyun starts to say, but Hyeran is already breaking the ones around his wrists. Baekhyun’s hands and feet have nothing to do with his breathing, but he already feels better without his shackles. Hyeran gathers the broken links up, closing her fist, and flings them into the corner of the room. Baekhyun stays quiet, watching her. He selfishly takes the energy she brings to the room, breathing it in until he has the strength to attempt to sit up on his own. 

His back screams in protest, and he bites hard into his bottom lip, cutting off a shout of discomfort. 

“Baekhyun!” Hyeran grabs his shoulders, holding him upright. “What are you doing?” He doesn’t answer her, gritting his teeth. Slowly, pain sharp and drawn-out as he moves, Baekhyun manages to get his legs underneath him, sitting cross-legged with his back held uncomfortably straight. 

“What are you doing here?” he pants, a bit dizzy. He sways a little, steadied by Hyeran’s hands on his shoulders.

“I had to see you,” Hyeran answers immediately. “I had to know that you’re…. that you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” Baekhyun tries to tell her, speaking too quickly, too faintly, for it to truly be believable. He wants to take Hyeran’s hand to convince her, but his fingers won’t move, broken as they are. “I’m okay.”

“You’re...you’re not okay! You can’t- you- you’re not okay!” Hyeran’s voice edges on hysterical, her hands shaking as she trails them from his shoulders, to his elbows. She grasps them suddenly, her eyes fixed wide in horror. “Your hands,” she whispers. “How can they… you can’t even do magic like this.” She lifts his hands by his wrists, touch so careful, so gentle.

“I’m going to be okay. It’s going to be fine,” Baekhyun wheezes, tugging his hands away. He doesn’t manage to hide his wince when his broken fingers are jostled by the action, and Hyeran grabs for his shoulders again.

“You can’t even breathe,” she tells him. “Baekhyun…” She’s not nearly as gentle this time, sliding a hand down his side, pressing against his torn skin.

“You’ve-” Baekhyun starts, “You’ve gotta- you gotta-” His breath hitches as her fingers get to the depression in his side where his rib is dislocated. “You-” Hyeran prods at his side, and Baekhyun shouts.

“ _Shit!_ ” He curls forward out of instinct to avoid her touch, aggravating his wounds further. “Fuck,” he moans, stomach tensing as he tries to hold back the taste of bile in his mouth. Hyeran lifts her hand from Baekhyun’s skin as if burned, helping him straighten back out.

“Baekhyun, your side is-”

“I know,” Baekhyun gasps. “I know.”

Hyeran slowly lifts her hands back to his side, careful to not apply any pressure. He feels magic thrum against his side, carefully seeking out his injury. It hurts, his flinch obvious, but Baekhyun forces himself to knock the back of his hand against her wrist, forcing her away.

It’s painful to move like that, his broken fingers searing, and it’s even more painful to push away the only source of magic in this room.

“Just go, princess,” Baekhyun attempts to order. His voice doesn’t quite reach the right forcefulness required of a command. “I’ll be fine. You have to… leave.”

Hyeran stares at him, watching him shiver and tremble both from pain and the cold, and she lifts her chin, shaking her head and refusing him.

“No, I can’t just leave you here,” she states. “Not like this.” Magic glows on her fingertips, and Baekhyun opens his mouth to protest.

Hyeran beats him to it. “Just let me, okay?” she says, reaching up and running her fingers through his hair. His head clears, his vision sharpening, the ache radiating from the back of his skull ceasing.

He’s weak, so weak. He doesn’t really have the energy or the will to protest, and he’s never really been adept as denying Hyeran anything. His voice is nothing more than a faint whisper as he gives in.

“Okay.”

Hyeran nods, closing her eyes and breathing. Her fingertips against his face are so soothing, soft. Her other hand moves from Baekhyun’s shoulder, framing his face. Hyeran’s energy fills the space around him, wrapping him in the pulse of her own breathing, her own magic, and he feels like he can breathe. 

Breathing is nice. He hadn’t realized how much he’d really missed it until he couldn’t. He thinks this is probably what Hyeran has felt like her entire life in the palace: unable to just breathe. 

She trails her fingertips softly along his cheekbones, his hairline, and there’s no pain. His skin slips back into place, cuts healing. She’s especially gentle around his ear, fitting the cartilage back together.

“Better?” she asks, and Baekhyun nods without his neck protesting. Her voice is clear again, no longer muddled in his once-ruined ear. “Okay.”

She continues down his shoulders, her magic prickling along his skin. It’s never painful, but it’s impossible to ignore. Her hands are warm against his chest, clearing the mottled bruises there. She hesitates at his side.

“Cuts are one thing,” she begins, “but I don’t know about… bones…”

“It’s the same,” Baekhyun gasps out, breathing a little easier with the guidance of her magic but not quite fully able to inhale.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Hyeran starts, her hands trembling. Baekhyun shakes his head.

“I’ve taken worse,” he says with a pale imitation of a smirk on his face. Hyeran doesn’t seem comforted, but she takes a breath anyway. Her energy builds, and slight pressure digs against his side. Baekhyun grimaces in discomfort, but he doesn’t take his eyes away from the absolute concentration on Hyeran’s face.

“Breathe,” Hyeran orders, and Baekhyun forces himself to inhale. He clearly hears the sickening _pop_ of his bone shifting back into place, but he breathes, coughing and sputtering as Hyeran’s magic clears the blood and pressure in his chest. 

He pants loudly, gulping in air. Even if it’s mostly stale and cold, he welcomes it.

Hyeran wears the faintest of smiles, letting go of his sides. “Now your hands,” she says, holding out her own expectantly. Baekhyun shouldn’t be letting her do this; when the guards come in to take him away and he’s seen fully healed they’ll only rough him up again, probably worse than before.

It’s not entirely futile to let Hyeran heal him, Baekhyun tells himself. It makes her feel better, gives her a chance to use her magic, makes it so that Baekhyun’s last few hours aren’t spent in absolute misery.

He lifts his hands, showing his bent fingers. Hyeran gasps. 

“It look worse than it is,” Baekhyun tries, but Hyeran isn’t listening to him, hands hovering around his like even the slightest contact with break his bones again.

“This is just… brutality,” Hyeran hisses, her eyebrows drawn down. “There is not a single plausible reason for why you should be treated like this.” Baekhyun isn’t really sure she’s talking to him, her tone a bit too authoritative. It reminds him of the night he confronted her about her real reasons for learning original magic. She had spoken the same way then, her words directed at her father despite his absence from the room.

“I know what has happened to your family,” Hyeran continues. “I’ve seen the effects…” She settles her hands gently on the undersides of Baekhyun’s wrists, her magic flaring up again, soothing the sharp ache in Baekhyun’s fingers. “Right now I’m not looking at an afterimage,” she murmurs. She looks up, her eyes bright and furious. “I’m looking at what senseless hatred does right in front of me.”

She shoves away from Baekhyun then, pushing herself to her feet. Baekhyun’s blood on the floor has stained her dress, and the hem of her cloak floats around her, lifted by her magic. Her earrings, the rubies Baekhyun gave her, spark with her outpour of magic, the wards working to keep anyone besides them from being aware of her magic.

It makes Baekhyun endlessly proud to see her like this: more mage than princess. 

“I have to get you out of here,” Hyeran declares, hands curled into fists. She paces. “My father is not a merciful man, and he... “ She stops, absolutely frozen for a long moment. Baekhyun watches her face, watches her mouth fall open and then close in a thin line. She rounds on him, anger and horror sending tears down her cheeks.

“You knew,” she accuses. Baekhyun looks down at his broken hands. He can’t bring himself to admit it out loud, but his actions are as much a confirmation as a simple ‘yes’ would be. He knew. His father knew. Jongdae knew.

“You knew!” Hyeran says again, pointing a shaking finger in his direction, her chin dimpled as she tries to hold back actual sobs. “You knew all of this would happen. You knew.” She gasps, wrapping her arms around herself. Her whole body appears smaller, drowning in the wild fabric of her cloak instead of enhanced by it. Her voice is a quiet pained whisper when she asks, “Why did you even come back?”

Baekhyun doesn't hesitate. “I had to know you made it here safely.”

“My safety for your life?” Hyeran chokes out. “They’re… my father will have you ki… _killed._ I-!” She bites her bottom lip, and she rubs her hands over her arms as if to warm herself.

“I can’t let you die,” she murmurs. “You haven’t done anything wrong.” 

“I’m an exile who stole the bloodydamn princess,” Baekhyun argues. “I’ve done _everything_ wrong.” That’s not completely true, Baekhyun thinks to himself. Falling for Hyeran was the most right thing he’s ever done. 

Hyeran shakes her head. “I coerced you into teaching me. _I’m_ the one who begged to leave.” She sighs. “The fault is with me.”

“No,” Baekhyun refutes. “No, you can’t take any fuckin’ blame, girlie.”

“But I’m the reason you’re here,” Hyeran counters. “If I explain what-”

“You won’t say a fucking word,” Baekhyun cuts her off. “If the king holds any hatred for you, then what will the stone be? Nothing but a fucking _thing_ meant to appease his anger. It won’t be able to win you anything.” 

“That won’t matter to me if you’re dead!” Hyeran shouts.

Baekhyun snaps. “For just one fucking second, fucking stop being a bloodydamn righteous person and be a fucking princess!” Hyeran opens her mouth to reply, and Baekhyun waves his broken hands in frustration, wanting to steal her voice but his energy is too low to be using magic. He presses on, talking fast. 

“Let me take this hit for you,” he says. “I can’t just escape. I would be fucking gone already if I could, but I _can’t_ , Hyeran.” She’s shaking her head, but Baekhyun needs her to understand, needs to know that he doesn’t blame her for this.”

It’s his choice.

“If I leave before your father announces his quest, then what the fuck did we even go and complete it for already? My escape would only confirm my guilt, and puts you through the seven if you help me.”

“ _But I_ -”

“Why the fuck would a princess help an exile unless he had helped her first?” Baekhyun demands. “The stone will be bloodydamn nothing but a bargaining chip for you to keep your head too if you’re caught helping a fucking exile! It would give everything away!” Baekhyun sighs, leaning forward just the slightest bit. “You need me to be captured so that you have nothing to do with me when you face the king.” He’s losing steam, his fatigue catching up to him. He breathes in, Hyeran’s stunned silence like a static energy in the room. Baekhyun closes his eyes.

“It’s nothing if it’s me, but you-” He falters. “When it’s you…”

“You’re not nothing.” Hyeran is soft in her speech, but her conviction is as strong as ever. “Not to me.” She stands straight suddenly, purpose straightening her shoulders. Her cloak flutters with the sudden surge of her energy. “I’m getting you out of here.”

“Did you even fucking listen to a fucking thing I fucking said?” Baekhyun practically snarls at her. “You cannot fucking let them fucking know the truth behind your involvement.”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do,” Hyeran snaps back at him. “My father can’t choose what I do, and neither can you. I’m choosing for myself now.” She drops unceremoniously to her knees again, sliding her hands gently underneath Baekhyun’s until their palms are aligned with his, her fingers resting gently against his wrists. His own broken fingers are splayed uncomfortably against the underside of her forearms.

Hyeran’s magic sparks and smooths across his skin in an even blue glow. She pulls her hands slowly towards herself, the magic warming and shifting Baekhyun’s bones painlessly back into place. He grits his teeth anyway, watching her work.

His magic on their hands sets his heart racing.

This is the last time he’ll ever get to feel this.

“I didn’t touch you,” Baekhyun whispers to Hyeran as she works on healing his hands. “And I didn’t take you. The king isn’t going to fucking believe that, but what matters is that… that you know I would _never_ do anything without you telling me that I can.” Hyeran’s hands slip away from his, and Baekhyun flexes his healed fingers, grabbing for her. She turns their hands over, holding him more than he’s holding her.

“Then don’t let yourself die for me,” Hyeran states. “That’s what I want.”

“Hyeran, you have to understand-”

“I _do_ understand,” Hyeran interjects. “But I still don’t want to just...give up. I didn’t climb a mountain and face death at the breath of dragons to watch you be killed on my father’s orders.”

“Sweetheart…”

“I don’t want to just give you up,” Hyeran breathes, a little desperate.

Baekhyun shakes his head and takes his hands from hers. “Just go,” he mutters. “Go and face your father tomorrow. Assert yourself, princess. Don’t let him make decisions for you ever again. Stand up by yourself like the queen you’re going to be.” He reaches up, cradling her cheek with one hand.

“You impress me, girlie,” he tells her. “You do whatever you want because you want to. You don’t lean on some man even if it might be easier, and that’s… that’s what I…” He strokes his thumb over her cheekbone and brushes a stray piece of hair back from her face, swallowing back words like _love_. “That’s why I… why I know you’re going to be more than anyone in your family ever was.”

He drops his hand from her face and shoves himself back when she reaches for him again.

“You’ll never see me again,” he says. “But I want… if what I want matters at all, then all I want is for you to be safe.” His lip trembles, and hers does too. Baekhyun won’t allow himself to cry when she can see it. He’s not ashamed of his tears of missing her already, but he doesn’t want to make it harder for her to leave him.

If she’s to become queen, then this is it for them.

This is it for the dragonborns.

“You’re already risking too much being here,” Baekhyun says. “So go, okay? Go.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” Hyeran tells him. She unfastens her cloak from around her shoulders, and with an easy flick of her fingers, the fabric twists around them to fasten around Baekhyun’s shoulders instead. It’s a little too small for him, the cut more elegant than anything he’s ever worn before, but instantly he feels warm despite his bare chest and stomach.

“You can’t stay,” Baekhyun says. The small space between them feels both infinite and nonexistent all at once. “You just can’t.”

“I thought I already told you you can’t choose what I can do and what I can’t do,” Hyeran says. She hiccups a little, holding back a sob. “I… I’m going to be who I choose to be, and right now I choose not to be a part of watching you… of watching… this. I can’t… be a part of this sort of… I can’t watch you die.”

She falls silent, her shoulders shaking much more prominently without her cloak to cover her. She crawls forward on her knees, the fine fabric of her dress tearing underneath her. Baekhyun doesn’t move away, just allows her to lean against his chest and wrap her arms around him.

“I miss the cliffs,” she whispers, peering up at him. It can’t be comfortable to lay sprawled awkwardly across the stone ground, but even with the make-up on her eyes and cheeks streaked through with tears, she’s the most stunning woman he’s ever seen. “ _Freedom and magic_ ,” she recites in dragon speak. 

Slowly, Baekhyun brings his arms up to wrap around her, pulling her up a little more comfortably so that her head rests on his shoulder. They sit in silence, simply breathing, watching the torchlight flicker for a long moment. 

Baekhyun has no idea for how long Hyeran has been here, but it’s definitely long past time for her to leave.

“Have you eaten?” she asks, disturbing the quiet. 

Baekhyun barks out a humorless laugh. “Hyeran, sweetheart. Do you really think they’re going to waste food on somebody like me?”

Hyeran exhales harshly and shakes her head, pushing herself away from Baekhyun and to her feet.

“I’m going to get you one last meal,” she declares. She holds up a hand to stop Baekhyun from protesting. “I promise no one will know it was from me. I won’t get caught. I’ll even get someone else to actually send my order, okay?

“You have to pretend you were never here,” Baekhyun urges. Hyeran nods, but Baekhyun can’t see any sincerity in her agreement. She waves a hand, and the torn fabric of her dress stitches itself back together.

“Okay,” she says.

“Go back to your rooms and just… just…” He trails out. He can’t ask her to forget, not when he did everything he did with the selfish intent to be the best for her.

“I will,” Hyeran promises. “If you promise to eat what I send you.”

“Go, princess,” Baekhyun says.

“I won’t come back,” Hyeran continues. “Just please… please let me do this for you.”

Baekhyun’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean-?”

But the torchlight dims and Hyeran stands. “Eat,” she orders again. Her fingers smooth through his hair, and then she goes, the light from the hallways showing the last flutter of her skirts as she strides out of the dungeon. 

“Hyeran,” Baekhyun calls after her. She pauses, looking back at him. “ _Goodbye,_ ” he says in dragon speak. 

Hyeran offers him the palest shadow of a smile and echoes him. “ _Goodbye._ ”

The door shuts behind her, and Hyeran’s magical presence completely disappears from Baekhyun’s senses, the earrings she wears working properly to protect her.

Baekhyun waits a few long, desperate moments, his chest burning as his heart breaks. She’s gone. 

He opens his mouth and screams out his anger and his frustration and his pain. He screams for a great love that must have been doomed from the moment it started.

Tomorrow is Hyeran’s birthday. Baekhyun doesn’t think he’ll live to see it.

*

The door opening jerks Baekhyun from a much more restful sleep, and he shoves the haze away, jumping to his feet. He reaches for his magic even if he’s still weak, but the person who steps through the door is not Heechul or any of the knights.

A serving girl without an inkling of magical presence walks through instead, a tray and a torch balanced in her hands. She keeps her head down, not really looking at Baekhyun, and in the orange torchlight, the paleness of her face betrays her fear. 

“Was sent to giver you this, exaile,” she whispers, accent rough, eastern inner city. Baekhyun watches her place the torch in the steel barrel on the floor. It mutes most of the light, but there’s enough to see. She trembles, stepping forward to set the tray down. “Wasn’t seen,” she promises, her hands still gripping the tray. She shifts awkwardly. “I’m ta tell you to tryer the soup.”

“Why are you here?” Baekhyun asks. The girl flinches at his voice, and a bit of the soup sloshes over the side of the bowl. She lets go of the tray.

“Was sent,” she says, repeating herself. “‘Nother serving girl. Asked me ta delivera this. Said nothin’ else.”

Baekhyun lifts an eyebrow. “You know her name?” he asks. He expects it to be that lady-in-waiting that had almost caught him in Hyeran’s room so many months ago. What had her name been? Siyeon?

“No, exaile. Too man’ maids here. Can’t be’er rememb’rin’ them all.” The serving girl stands and doesn’t offer him any sort of cursty or bow, just a long stare. “Thought you’d be’er scarier an’ all. Said ya had dragoner scales.”

If Baekhyun were in a better condition and not distracted by the smell of soup, he would have bared his teeth and put on an illusion of dragon scales just to startle the girl. Instead, he reaches for the tray and draws it closer to him, ignoring her.

“Dun’ have orders to retriever the bowls, so…” The girl dips her head in a bow and turns for the door. She leaves in a rush, not waiting for a non-forthcoming dismissal. Even as a lowly serving girl, Baekhyun, as an exile, is lower than her. 

The door slams shut, leaving nothing but the dim sliver of moonlight creeping under the door and the dead air now filled with the smell of soup as company for Baekhyun. He sighs, shifting to sit cross-legged and picking up one of the pieces of bread from the tray. It’s not really warm anymore, but if Baekhyun really focuses, he can feel the memory of the heat of the oven. 

He tears off a chunk with his teeth, chewing with a morbid sort of interest.

Unless Hyeran becomes both a miracle worker and fond of doing incredibly stupid things, this meal will be his last.

And it’s a gift from the princess herself. 

He snorts and dunks the bread in the soup. It’s thick, smelling cleary of tomato and herbs that Baekhyun has never been rich enough to taste before. It’s hot even if the bread is not, and Baekhyun attempts to savor the taste. Even with Hyeran’s cloak around his shoulders and a meal in front of him, it’s not easy to imagine that he isn’t in the situation he’s in, that he isn’t just waiting for the door to open again and for death to greet him.

It’s hard to eat with any sort of gusto when his body probably won’t even have time to fully digest this meal. 

He picks at the turkey leg with a sort of longing for the pheasants his father taught him to hunt with a carefully controlled bolt of energy. He misses the way his mother would grow mustard flowers for their seeds to flavor their food. 

He sighs and gives up on the turkey. He grabs for another piece of bread, dunking it too forcefully in the soup. Some of it splashes over, and the bowl tips, spilling more. Baekhyun watches it rock, the porcelain threatening topple over as it clatters around on the tray. He grabs the lip of the bowl, stilling its motion, and something not soup shifts within the bowl. 

Baekhyun pauses.

He looks left and then right before he carefully tilts the bowl side to side too, listening for something to slide from one side of the porcelain to the other. It’s faint, a potential trick of a desperate mind, but Baekhyun grabs another piece of bread and plunges it into the bowl, swirling it around. The sound clicks again, louder this time, and Baekhyun does it again, looking around as if the noise came from anywhere other than inside his soup bowl.

Baekhyun tosses the bread aside, and it bounces across the stone floor, leaving behind splotches of soup like blood as it disappears into the darkness. Baekhyun turns the bowl over next, the soup splattering across the tray and the floor. 

Laying in the midst of red, more red, deeper and more vibrant, standing out against a gold setting too bright for the room is the gleam of rubies inscribed with pale blue wards. Baekhyun slides his fingers through the mess of the soup, almost unable to believe what he’s seeing. The red colors his fingers and seeps under his nails, but he’s laughing.

He really did make an exile of the princess after all. 

He pulls from the spilled soup the earrings his mother inscribed wards upon years ago, the very same earrings he gifted Hyeran to help protect her during her time learning original magic. These are the earrings that he’s seen worn by the only two women he’s ever loved, and now it seems these are the very earrings that Hyeran intends to be the tool that will save his life.

Baekhyun throws his head back and laughs loud and long.

“Fuckin’ princess,” he says to no one. “Can’t expect her to listen to anyone.”

Hyeran had promised to get him out, and Baekhyun doesn’t know why he expected her to just listen to him and ignore his presence, leave him to die. In the fading orange torchlight, the rubies gleam despite the soup coating parts of their surface. Baekhyun flicks his fingers, clearing the soup and the stick from the earrings, letting them glow as much as they please in the dim light.

He closes his eyes.

Even weakened right now, he has enough energy to bend the light around himself to sneak out of the dungeons. No one will see him, and with the earrings, no one will sense him. He could leave right now and he would live. He could sneak out of the castle and return to the slums to laugh away the whole ordeal with Jongdae before returning to his home on the cliffs.

His father would be so surprised to see him, and Hyeran…

_Hyeran._

Baekhyun stills in climbing to his feet, heart and mind racing. He can run; he can escape. But with the earrings, he can see Hyeran one more time. She’ll mock him for wearing women’s earrings again, but he won’t mind. He’ll take her teasing if it means he can laugh with her and kiss her one last goodbye. 

He has to get out first for any of that to happen. And the timing of his escape has to correspond with Hyeran facing her father when all the focus in the castle will be on the throne room, on the king and the princess. Baekhyun purses his lips. It’s going to be difficult to get the timing right when he has no idea what time it is right now.

He assumes Hyeran visited just after midnight, but he doesn’t know how long he dozed for before the eastern inner city girl brought him the meal, the earrings. 

He sits back down, careful to avoid to the splatters of soup across the floor.

Heechul had promised to make a show of separating his head from his shoulders to celebrate the princess’ birthday. If Baekhyun waits, alert and on his guard, maybe the king’s assassin will come greet him at morning light to drag him to face the king.

Baekhyun cracks his knuckles and unties the cloak, letting it drape loosely over his shoulders. Hyeran’s presence and healing gave him just enough energy to face the assassin and manipulate the light around him to slip past anyone else in the castle. 

He buries his smile in his own shoulder. If he’s fast enough, he can see Hyeran upend her father’s plans to marry her off. He’d kill to see that; he remembers of Heechul wicked grin as he snapped Baekhyun’s fingers and thinks that he might. 

Baekhyun counts his own breaths, focusing on his own energy circulating as he breaths. He can’t draw any from the air, but he can at least maintain his own. Most of the magic within him now was drawn from Hyeran, and that only makes Baekhyun feel more powerful that the princess is willing to share the very force of her life with him.

Maybe compassion is a force just as strong as magic.

Baekhyun doesn’t let his gaze stray from the door, waiting for the slightest shift in the strip of light showing underneath it, for the slightest flicker of a shadow. He sweeps the tray of food aside with an arm, almost revelling in the clear crack of the wood against the stone. 

Hope is just as potent as Hyeran’s lips against his, her energy mixed with his. 

Baekhyun doesn’t feel tired the longer his wait extends. Quite the opposite - he feels more on edge, anticipation and adrenaline buzzing through his body. The morning is coming; he can almost feel the sun warming the stones outside of his dungeon cell, can almost feel the winter chill trying to flee the bright light. He puts the studs Jongdae gifted him in the fabric of his pants and slips his mother’s earrings into his ears. The cloaking sensation of the wards is almost soothing.

He keeps breathing.

The shuffle of soft-soled boots only catches Baekhyun’s attention because he’s waiting for it. He sees the shadows move, and he anticipates the groan of the iron bolts on the door before he actually hears it. He holds perfectly still, hand wrapped around a chain that had once tied him broken and helpless.

“Good morning, exile,” sing-songs through the door before Heechul steps over the threshold. 

Baekhyun smirks. “Good morning, assassin.” He moves then, flinging the chain hard as Heechul’s abdomen. Hyeran’s cloak flies from his shoulders with the action, fluttering to the ground. Heechul’s reflexes save him from being completely winded, but the chain still wraps around his arm, holding him still long enough for Baekhyun to dart forward, fist raised to crack along Heechul’s jaw.

Heechul just manages to duck away, Baekhyun’s fist colliding with his collarbone instead. The chains clatter to the floor. Heechul drops back against the door and shoves off of it, slamming it shut and slamming hard into Baekhyun.

They topple to the floor, Baekhyun barely avoiding his head slamming into the stone ground. His back smarts from the hit, but it’s easy to ignore pain in the midst of a fight. He rolls to the side, driving his elbow hard into Heechul’s temple. The assassin’s face twists, but he doesn’t emit any sound, too well-trained for that, taking the hit and holding his ground. 

Even if he did decide to scream, Baekhyun would steal his voice, and maybe the assassin is aware of that. His hands shove against Baekhyun’s shoulders, slipping up to his neck, but Baekhyun’s already got his own hand against the middle of Heechul’s chest. 

“Careful,” he hisses. “It’d be too fuckin’ easy to burn your heart better than the seven could.”

Heechul eyes him, his fingers starting to tighten around Baekhyun’s neck.

“I knew the princess would come for you,” he mutters. “Fucked her real good, didn’t you? Made her think an exile like you could love her?”

“Better than even her own father ever could,” Baekhyun retorts. Heechul’s fingers dig into the back of Baekhyun’s neck instead of pressing on his windpipe, and Baekhyun’s vision dances, consciousness slipping around in front of him.

If he were a war magic user, his magic heavily based on his own physical strength, this would probably be highly effective. However, Baekhyun can still breathe, so even with his vision and muscles weakening from the pressure, he exhales.

A burst of fire and a shower of sparks singes from his hand into Heechul’s chest, and the assassin rears back, letting go of Baekhyun and trying to roll away. Baekhyun’s stomach clenches; he forces himself to chase after the assassin, grabbing his head. 

“For my broken fingers,” Baekhyun tells him. He twists his grip, and a sickening crack prefaces the dull thump of Heechul’s body hitting the ground. His glassy, blank eyes stare up at Baekhyun as he steps back. “An eye for an eye, or something.”

He shrugs his shoulders back and moves to grab Hyeran’s cloak from the ground, missing its warmth. He looks down at the assassin now dead on the ground and eyes his shirt and tunic. He really won’t be needing them anymore anyway, he figures. He rolls the corpse over to strip him of his tunic and shirt, fingers quick on the lacing and quicker as he works to get the material on his own body.

He needs to move, needs to get out of here before someone comes looking for Heechul. 

Magic fixes the rips in his pants and secures his boots while his hands secure Hyeran’s cloak around his shoulders. The elegant designs sewn into the shoulders seem to trap the smell of her skin in the threads. 

Baekhyun turns to face the door, the earrings swinging against his neck. It takes two strides to reach it, and he pulls it open just enough to slip through, calling the light around him to twist and hide his presence. 

One of the guards standing at the end of the hall turns to look in the direction where Baekhyun stands, blinking through his visor to see nothing but a trick of the light. Baekhyun grins in his invisibility and steals the sound from under his own boots as he takes off down the stairs. The dungeon towers are mazes, broken stairs and dark corridors that Baekhyun doesn’t know how to navigate.

He doesn’t worry about magic users or guards on watch - none of them can see him anyway. Even if his magic were to slip and he were to be seen, he’ll be gone within the next second, leaving behind nothing but confusion, a sense of disruption, and the niggling feeling that something isn’t right.

The difference between the dungeon towers and the main levels of the castle is greater than dragons and snails. In his cell, breathing had been difficult even without his wounded ribs. Here, the air simmers with untapped magical potential, the stones practically trembling with the energy that thrums through the castle.

His magic can’t be sensed with the earrings on, and that’s his saving grace. His body hums with the influx of energy in the air, the movement of people and the gravity pinning them all to the ground. The energy here is dark and dangerous, sourced from land trampled and changed by human hands. It’s nothing like the open possibilities of the plains and the cliffs.

Baekhyun pauses in his search to breathe in, to take in the taste of the kingdom’s most poisoned air and welcome his magic to circulate through his body just as powerfully as it pleases. 

He can hear the faint buzz of the wards trapping his magical presence close to him, and his own energy, now revived and bright, feels a mere too-quick movement from zapping his skin.

The castle seems to murmur with the voice of gossip, an excited whisper carried on every servant’s tongue. Baekhyun doesn’t stop to listen to them; he knows exactly what they’re discussing.

It’s the princess’s birthday, and the king is about to make a decree.

A royal wedding, naturally, is bound to follow. _Fuck that._

Baekhyun smirks to himself. Little do they know that their darling princess is about to turn her father’s plans inside out and string their guts out across the throne room.

Baekhyun should keep running, should get his ass out of the castle as fast as he can and never look back, but he needs to see Hyeran one more time. He needs to tell her goodbye properly and congratulate her. Bad ideas are enticing and seductive, and so Baekhyun gives in so easily to the idea of watching Hyeran stride into the throne room with her hair streaming out behind her and the word of Dragons in her hands. Her father’s face, the knights’ disappointment, the knowledge that he’s the only one who is aware of who she is behind her carefully painted princess mask - all of it calls to Baekhyun with the memory of Hyeran’s warm lips against his ear.

He needs to find the throne room.

He travels deeper into the belly of the castle, turning down corridors and hallways where the servants seem to gather and the energy of life is far more palpable. When a woman dressed in fancy garb, the jewels around her neck obviously worth more than a year of a blacksmith’s wages, catches Baekhyun’s attention, he switches his direction to follow her. The look of intrigue on her face, a slight flush of excitement as she walks with vaguely hurried steps tells Baekhyun he’s going to the right direction.

The palace is a labyrinth of opulent cages and tortured luxury, and he cannot wait to be free of these walls. It’s even easier down here instead of up in the dungeons to see why Hyeran feels like a caged bird and a gilded prize on display. 

The chatter of a gathered crowd rings just up ahead, and Baekhyun steps in as close as he dares behind the court lady he’d taken to following, walking out into a red-carpeted foyer lined with guards wearing matching armor, sapphires in the pommels of their swords. 

If Baekhyun had thought Hyeran’s room was luxurious, the foyer is something else. 

He catches himself looking around too much, nearly tripping a few time on the hem of the gown that the woman walking ahead of him wears. He catches himself just as she slips through the open throne room doors into a room that Baekhyun is caught between describing as glorious and gaudy.

If the foyer had impressed him, the throne room sickens him.

It’s not really the room itself that brings bile to his throat but the man seated at the head of it, his lined face and ringed fingers insulting Baekhyun more than words ever could. Just his presence and the muddled scents of perfumes in the room make Baekhyun want to ruin the carpet under his feet with the contents of his stomach.

“Fuck,” he whispers, pressing a hand to his chest. His heart races in his hate and anger. A man to his left turns in confusion to a man to his left.

“Did you say something, my good sir?”

Baekhyun claps a hand over his mouth to hold back a burst of giggles as the man the first was addressing looks at him in bewildered confusion.

“I can assure you, sir, not a word left my mouth,” he promises with a crooked eyebrow.

The first man sighs. “I could have sworn I heard something,” he murmurs before he turns the conversation to a stilted small talk that doesn’t hold Baekhyun’s interest. 

The throne room is lined with heavy pillars painted with gold and ivory, and Baekhyun weaves carefully through the dozens of royal and rich people milling about, tempted to knock into a few of them. He’s really forfeiting the gift of a second chance Hyeran gave him if he does that, so he restrains himself, hurrying instead to stand beside one. A guard stands a mere arm’s span away from him, and Baekhyun can sense the power stored in the gem in the emerald pommel of his sword.

_Fuckin’ metal men,_ he scoffs to himself. He looks up towards the head of the room, purposefully avoiding setting his gaze on the king to check for Hyeran. He doesn’t see her, and the less ornate seat next to the king is empty.

Even the queen dared not show her face for this announcement. After the way Hyeran spoke about her mother, Baekhyun figures this is her only show of defiance against her husband’s wishes for their daughter. 

A heavy set of three knocks rings out around the throne room, and the roar of the assembled quiets until Baekhyun can only hear his own breathing. 

“Silence and respect for the king!” the herald calls out. He slams his staff on the ground another three times, each hit resounding in Baekhyun’s chest. Every face in the room angles toward the king. Finally, even hidden as he is, Baekhyun looks too.

The king leans forward in his throne, his eyes dark and pleased. Fury shakes Baekhyun’s hands; he hates just how smug the king appears for this announcement. 

“My good people,” the king begins, “I welcome you today.” Silence answers his words, the members of court and those rich enough to come see this spectacle knowing better than to assume their words mean anything to this man without his express permission to speak. 

“This is an auspicious day,” the king announces. “I have gathered you all here to celebrate with me the glory that will become of today.” He leans back in his chair, laughing a great, booming laugh even though he hasn’t said anything particularly humorous. The people in the throne room remain silent. 

The king’s hands go to his knees, and he pushes himself up to stand. His hand settles on the sword strapped to his waist. There aren’t any gems set into the pommel, and the handguard appears like an open wolf’s mouth. It doesn’t seem to be the most functional sword, but then, Baekhyun supposes he doesn’t need a weapon within the walls of his own castle. 

The guards standing five paces from each other along the walls and in front of the king’s throne carry more than enough power for the king to never have to raise a finger to defend himself.

Distractedly, Baekhyun wonders if the king even knows how to wield a sword. 

“As you all have noticed, I have gathered here today the greatest warriors of our kingdom because of this very momentous occasion,” the king says. “That occasion, of course, is the nineteenth birthday of my kingdom’s princess.” He doesn’t say daughter; he doesn’t even say Hyeran’s name. 

She’s an object to him, and Baekhyun’s fury only roars in his ears. 

“I wish to see the princess receive the highest happiness in life,” the king continues. “Gems and gowns and luxury, yes, but also more than that. Along with the princess’ happiness, there is something else I seek.”

The king’s tone lowers, and he steps forward to the front of the stage where his throne is set. 

“In exchange for this rare artifact that I desire, I am prepared to offer riches and fame that can only come from being the king’s champion.” His grin is terrible and saccharine. “The man who brings this item to me will be rewarded handsomely three times over. More than riches and fame, he will be given a higher standing in my kingdom than any other man but myself.” Whispers break out, and the king’s smile widens, appearing even more unpleasant. 

“I will bestow marriage upon the man who is successful on this quest,” the king declares. “The most beautiful, most fair of all unmarried women. The greatest prize a man could want.”

The king walks down three of the steps to the main level, standing only one step over all his gathered subjects. 

“The princess-”

The doors to the throne room groan, and the king quiets, lips pursed. The people standing near the entrance to the throne room gasp and panic, hurrying out of the way as the heavy doors are flung open. Baekhyun straightens, attempting to peer over the crowd. The excited giggle of women and the low speech of men enraptured follow the entrance of a woman dressed in deep purple velvet threaded with silver. Her hair streams out behind her, the ivory train of her dress fanned across the carpeted ground. The circlet on her head flashes with every step she takes, but it cannot hope to shine brighter than her eyes.

This is the princess in all her glory. This is the woman who owns Baekhyun’s heart and life.

“Announcing Princess Hyeran!” the herald yells moments too late into the terse stillness in the throne room.

“Your majesty, father mine,” Hyeran greets without a bow, standing with her back straight and her shoulders back. A simple black handkerchief covers what she holds in her hands, and Baekhyun can feel the power of the word of dragons from here. “Accept my most sincere apologies for my interruption.” Her lips, painted red, curve elegantly around her words, but her voice carries authority from where she stands in the center of the throne room.

It sends a thrill of desire down Baekhyun’s spine.

“Hyeran,” the king murmurs. “Considering the date, the anniversary of your birth, I cannot blame you for wanting to be here.” He raises his hands to clap, and the people gathered join him with a light smattering of applause. 

“I wish to be anywhere but here,” Hyeran counters loudly, cutting through the applause. The forced smile drops from the king’s face, and a real smile lifts Baekhyun’s lifts.

“Thatta girl, sweetheart,” Baekhyun whispers, capturing the sound of his own breath so that he won’t be found in this quiet. 

“A room where I’m to be announced as a prize is not a desireable place to be, Father,” Hyeran continues. “But do go on. Tell them what it is you so desperately seek.” She’s holding tightly to her magic; Baekhyun can see it in the tension in her arms, the stone resting hidden in her hands.

“Come, greet me with a kiss,” the king says, faking a lightness to his voice. In the past, before original magic sang in Hyeran’s veins, Baekhyun imagines the princess would have gone to her father and done as he asked, forcing herself to not wrinkle her nose in disgust. 

Hyeran as she is now does not move. 

“Of all the men in this room, the last one I wish to kiss is you, your majesty,” Hyeran sniffs. “Your plan to marry me off has really not sat well with me, and then I was _kidnapped._ ” The ladies in the room gasp and gossip, unsettled. They fan themselves, clinging to each other’s arms.

“As my fellow court ladies can imagine,” Hyeran says, “It’s hard to want to touch a man when one has treated you so poorly.” Her words are a careful mix of lies and truths, disrupting the air in the throne room so that she’s the one with the power in the room.

It has nothing to do with her capability with magic. It’s the way she speaks, the way she commands the crowd with her words. The king’s momentum easily becomes Hyeran’s momentum.

“You want me to marry the man who completes your quest, Father?” Hyeran asks even if it’s rhetorical. “What could a man possibly bring to you that is worth my very person, your majesty? Tell the court what price you’ve amounted me to.”

The king’s frown is deep, his eyes furious. His grip on his ceremonial sword tightens. 

“Princess,” he says in warning.

Hyeran pays him no mind and pinches the top of the handkerchief. “Is it this?”

She flings the black fabric to the ground, the green and blue glow of the Word of Dragons lighting her skin and the air around her. Magic shimmers where she stands, cascading down on her as she lifts the stone into the air.

The court erupts, eyes wide with wonder and fear. They all say the same words repeated over and over again, and Hyeran speaks over them all.

“I present to the court the Word of Dragons,” Hyeran heralds. “A stone inscribed by the late dragonborn Chen the secrets of original magic. This stone holds the key to how humans first learned the power of dragons themselves, and I hold it here in my hand.” Her eyes, just as dark and serious as her father’s, do not stray from the king’s face. “Any man who attempts to take this from me will be shown the same amount of mercy the dragons showed their enemies.”

There’s a pregnant pause that follows her words, the court unsure if they should cheer for the success of the king’s quest or cry for the failure of it. The king himself stares back at his daughter, his expression nearly unreadable except for the thinly veiled shock and rage creased into it. 

“Tell me my prize, your majesty,” Hyeran demands. “Do I win the title of queen? The rights to the royal treasury?” She scoffs. ”Of course not. I already have those.” She gives no ruse of pretending to think, her next question bordering on infuriated accusation. “Have I permission to marry myself, Father?”

The entirety of the throne room seems to hold its breath. The air and the walls seem unnaturally still, and the king’s face is red. 

“That exile,” the king finally snarls. Baekhyun’s blood runs cold. 

_No,_ he thinks, mouthing the word with his thoughts. _Don’t bring me into this,_ he prays desperately. _Don’t provoke her._

“Kidnaps you, does he?” the king shouts, descending the last step to stand on even ground with Hyeran and the rest of the court. “Takes you to wherever the seven he took you to have his way with you, and then what? Did he promise you the Word of Dragons in exchange for a fuck, dear princess?”

Hyeran doesn’t flinch back from her father’s cruel words. He embarrassed, flustered, and she has him right where she needs him to be if she’s to claim her own rights in front of this entire assembly. 

Baekhyun watches her breathe.

“You know as well as I do that no exile kidnapped me,” Hyeran states. “I _chose_ him as my guide to retrieve the stone and stop your plans to just marry me off. I can assure you with everyone present as my witness that he never touched me.”

_Because he loves you,_ Baekhyun adds to her words, thinking them fervently, hoping she knows.

“Men do not risk their lives for _nothing,_ ” the king sneers. “What did you give him?”

“He’s not a simple man like that,” Hyeran responds, and her eyes flash in wicked triumph. “He’s a dragonborn.” 

“Oh, a _dragonborn_!” the king sneers. “An exile, Hyeran. Call him what he is: an exile.” He advances on her, walking to meet her in the middle of his own throne room. “And do you know where that exile is?”

The king reaches her, leaning in close. His whisper is not a whisper at all. “The dungeons.”

Hyeran laughs. “You think you can contain a dragonborn in the dungeons?” When she speaks next, she doesn’t seem to be addressing the king even if her gaze never leaves him. “I never took my father for a foolish king, but I have been wrong before.”

“Watch your mouth, girl,” the king snaps.

“Where is your assassin, Father?” Hyeran presses. “He’s usually standing at your side for events like these.”

The question seems to snap something in the king. He jerks a hand up to point at one of the guards near the doors. “Go find him,” he orders.

“You won’t find him,” Hyeran says after a few of the guards run off led by the one the king had designated. “I can almost guarantee it.”

“Hold your tongue,” the king demands. Hyeran does, contempt written on her features. 

A long few moments of waiting are marked only by the bated breath of the court, the king trembling in anger, and Hyeran’s perfect poise. 

The clank of the commanded guard’s armor precedes his gasping for breath when he returns to the throne room.

“Your majesty,” he begins, falling to his knees. “The assassin… he…” The king’s patience, already frayed, burns. 

“Where is Heechul?” the king screams, ignoring the first guard. Two more guards re-enter the throne room, a herald dressed in prison garb with them. The guards grip his arms, practically dragging him in, his toes scraping the ground. He thrown to his knees, fingers tapping anxiously. 

His voice squeaks as he speaks, “Dead, your majesty.” He shakes. “Found him just a few minutes ago in the exile’s cell, your majesty.”

“Dead?” The king spits with his shout. “And where is the exile?”

The herald shakes harder. “I… I do not know, y-your majest-”

“This is why original magic is banned!” the king yells to his court. “Something like that exile can kill a man like my honored assassin. Do you realize the danger we are in if he is wandering these halls? Maybe standing in this very room?”

Gasps and shouts of outrage and fear echo through the room in response to the king’s words, the court ladies moving to huddle together and hide behind the men. Hyeran stands still and silent, unafraid even though she is the one who should be most afraid as a user of original magic.

The king’s face twists into a horrific sneer, chest heaving. “I should have killed his father when I had the chance.”

The king draws his sword from his scabbard with a two-handed grip to suit his rage. It’s not a silver blade that rings free of the sheath but a curved and carved edge of white that churns Baekhyun’s stomach. Last year, the king sent knights to collect dragon teeth from the wastelands of old wars. 

Now, he sees what he wanted with them. 

“This is why that old sorcerer and his wife were exiled!” the king shouts. “This is why original magic cannot be allowed to exist!”

The king raises his arms, the shadow of the sword crossing Hyeran’s face, and Hyeran’s defiant expression cracks into uncertainty, fear bleeding into her eyes. Baekhyun realizes what the king intends to do mere seconds before the sword drops, forgetting his disguise in favor of throwing himself forward.

“Hyeran!” he screams, voice echoing with the sudden burst of magic from within his body. The earrings shatter and fall from his ears, the wards cracked under the pressure of Baekhyun letting his magic sing loudly. He pays no mind to the crowd in front of him, shoving them aside, ignoring their shouts and screams as his magic burns their finery. 

All he can see is the king’s dragon tooth sword, laced with the poison of dragon breath, tearing through Hyeran’s skin and bones, splintering the stone into fragments. 

He collides with the king, throwing the man back into the gathered crowd. The tip of the sword drags against his shoulder, splitting the fabric of the cloak and soaking his sleeve with blood. Baekhyun lands hard on his feet and rolls forward into a kneeling position in front of Hyeran. He pants as he pushes himself to his feet, the cloak he wears fluttering with his outpouring of magic.

“Baekhyun,” Hyeran gasps, and Baekhyun feels her reaching for him before she makes contact. He steps aside, the tips of her fingers just barely brushing his elbow. He glances at her, giving one sharp shake of his head. 

The crowd around them shifts, hurrying to help the king and to yell at the guards to attack.

“So this is the exile,” the king growls, stumbling from the crowd. His grip on the sword is tight, his teeth bared. 

“Protect the king!” resonates from within the visor of one of the knights, and there seems to be a collective breath as the royal and rich scatter, the knights surging forward. The pommels of their swords glow, multicolored war magic singeing the air. 

Baekhyun doesn’t take his eyes off the king, challenging him.

“Baekhyun,” Hyeran whispers. Her energy shows itself, just a bare crackle, and Baekhyun takes a step back to knock into her shoulder, breaking her concentration.

“Don’t,” he mutters out of the side of his mouth. He throws a hand into the air, exhaling. Pale blue extends from his fingers, covering Hyeran and himself in a ward that spins brightly. He breathes again, extending the ward to cover the king. It shoves the guards back, and the clamor of the court members shouting is muffled by the roar of magic. 

A knight runs forward. He drives his sword at the ward, and Baekhyun is jolted by the release of war magic against its surface. His ribs ache as his breath is knocked from him momentarily. He strains, holding onto the ward even as more knights come to attack it, blasting it with their war magic. 

Fingertips settle against Baekhyun’s side under his cloak, a touch hidden to anyone watching. The faintest strain of magic passes from Hyeran to Baekhyun, solidifying the ward until the clamor outside is nothing but a murmur.

“Stay back!” The king orders. “Can you fools not see this is a futile attempt?” He adjusts the sword in his hand. “Let the exile show you just how dangerous he is.”

Hyeran’s touch on Baekhyun’s side turns into a tight hold on his tunic. 

“Fuckin’ _sure_ ,” Baekhyun slurs. “I think you meant to say: let me show them how much of a fucking coward you bloodydamn are.”

The king laughs, the sound cruel. Baekhyun has known his whole life that the king would prefer him to be dead, but now he can see it plainly written in the malice on his face. 

“You look just like your father,” the king says, taking steps in closer, the tip of the sword pointed at the ground. Even without the weapon poised as an immediate threat, Baekhyun still shifts slightly to stand in front of Hyeran. “Just like your father, exile.”

“I prefer dragonborn,” Baekhyun tell him. “It’s just so much more bloodydamn impressive.” The women gasp from their huddled stances at his words, but Hyeran is struggling to hide a smirk. She still stands with her back straight, the stone cradled carefully in her arms.

The king barks out a laugh that slurs into a sneer. “I was told you were halfway to death,” he hisses. “But here you stand, completely fine.” He lifts the sword, holding is cross-body in front of him. 

“Fuckin’ powerful magic, y’know?” Baekhyun sneers. “Probably shouldn’t be allowed even in the seven, right, your majesty?” He rolls his eyes and lifts a hand, letting magic gather on his fingertips. The air compresses around the dragon tooth sword, shaking the king’s grip on it. 

The white begins to glow blue.

“It’s a fucking miracle that you managed to have a daughter as fucking wonderful as Hyeran,” Baekhyun spits at the king. 

“Ah, you would know a good woman, exile?” the king returns. He moves even closer now, the tip of the sword a mere hand’s span from Baekhyun’s knee.

“That’s why I didn’t have to take her,” Baekhyun says, provoking him further. “But your daughter, she insisted. She didn’t want any of those men, she said. She said she wanted to be free.”

“Baekhyun, stop,” Hyeran pleads under breath. “I gave you the earrings so that you’d leave, not come back to die!” 

“I can’t let you destroy the stone,” Baekhyun says out loud, speaking to the king. Hyeran curses softly, understanding his explanation. 

“Leave now,” she urges.

“I can’t let you live,” the king counters. “You admitted to stealing the princess.” The tip of the sword raises, pointing instead at Baekhyun’s stomach. “You practice original magic. You entered my kingdom. You’re _dragonborn._ ” He says the word, Baekhyun’s most prideful title, like an insult. He lifts the sword to point at Baekhyun’s chest. “You deserve death. It will look good on you.”

“You can’t!” Hyeran screams, stepping out from behind Baekhyun. “You can’t kill him.”

“Shut up,” the king shouts. Hyeran’s face twists into a rage far more terrifying than her father’s. She presses Baekhyun back, ignoring his protests to stand in front of the dragon tooth sword. The tip touches the hollow of her neck.

Panic, unbridled, surges through Baekhyun. He snaps his fingers, and the magic surrounding the blade snaps too. The dragon tooth sword falls to the ground in shards. The king screams in outrage, holding onto nothing more than a gilded handle.

“Hyeran,” Baekhyun warns, using the king’s moment of distraction to speak to her. “Don’t you say a fucking wor-”

“He didn’t kidnap me,” Hyeran announces, loud and clear for the entire room, louder, maybe, just to spite Baekhyun. “I asked him to take me to retrieve the Word of Dragons.”

“Hyeran!” Baekhyun shouts, but it's too late. She’s already ruined her step ahead of her father with that admission. 

The king shakes his head, his disbelief and disgust obvious. “Oh, I see,” he says. “And did you _ask_ him to pleasure you too?”

Baekhyun’s expression matches the court ladies, gaping mouth and shocked breaths. The ladies gossip, and Baekhyun school his features into a smirk.

“She's too fuckin’ good for me,” he says. “Too fucking good for anyone here.”

“Is that so?” The king’s gaze cuts to Hyeran.

“He didn't, your majesty,” Hyeran confirms. “Should that even matter? Does that make me any less of a princess?”

“Do you think any man would want a woman who's been taken by an exile?” The king scoffs, throwing the handle of the sword to the ground at Hyeran’s feet. “I assure you, princess, no one wants that thing’s sloppy seconds.”

Fury overtakes Baekhyun, but Hyeran is already stepping forward, her magic just barely contained.

“He’s not a bloodydamn _thing_!” Hyeran cries, pointing at him. “He’s as much a person as you are, Father. As I am. And he’s done nothing wrong. The only thing he’s ever done to me is protect me and risk his life for me, and that’s more than I can say for any of these men whom you wish for me to marry!” 

She pants a little bit, and Baekhyun can see how hard she’s trying to hold back tears. 

“He’s not about to be anyone or anything but a corpse,” the king tells her, brushing off her words with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“Break the ward!” the king bellows. “For his crimes, the exile is to be silenced at the guillotine upon the hour!”

Baekhyun forces his breathing steady, holding the ward still. The light, Hyeran’s energy, the crack of war magic, the multitude of people in the room - Baekhyun will be able to hold onto this ward for a long time. 

“No!” Hyeran screams just as the first attack slams against the ward. Baekhyun widens his stance, feeling every hit as if it were a lash against his own skin.

“An exile in the kingdom meets only one fate, Hyeran,” the king shouts. “A public death for a public enemy.”

“Father, please,” Hyeran pleads, falling to her knees. “Please.” She crawls, undignified, to kneel in front of her father, clinging to the hem of his cloak. “I give in,” she manages to say, fingers and voice shaking. “Just please don’t… don’t kill him.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” the king demands, features twisted as he looks down at his daughter.

“Because...because, I-”

“Hyeran!” Baekhyun gasps, another hit feeling like a stab to his knee. “Hyeran, listen to me! Remember what I told you! Remember-!”

“I will marry whomever you choose!” Hyeran blurts, begging. The long train of her dress makes her look even smaller where she kneels.

“Hyeran!” Baekhyun shouts again.

He’s ignored in favor of Hyeran continuing to beg her father, to plead for Baekhyun’s life. 

“I will marry whomever you choose,” Hyeran repeats. “In exchange for that, he goes free.”

“Your life for his,” the king muses. “That’s what you want?”

“Yes!” Hyeran twists her fingers and hands in the king’s cloak. “Please, Father. Whomever you choose. Without any objection from me. I swear it.” The king appears wholly unconvinced. “ _I swear_!”

Her words, her begging, all pain Baekhyun. This isn’t why he did what he did. Call it selfish, but to give up Hyeran just for her to give up her agency for him is not something he wants to be a part of. He said he would see her reach freedom, and that promise sends his last words tumbling from his mouth.

“I choose to die.”

His declaration seems to echo in the throne room. The king’s gaze moves from his daughter to Baekhyun, and Baekhyun slowly, staring back at the king so at to not see the tears streaming down Hyeran’s face, lowers the ward around them.

“Don’t listen to him!” Hyeran screams at her father, still clinging to his cloak as the king steps forward, standing face to face with Baekhyun.

A grin steals over his features. “What was that, exile?”

“Kill me,” Baekhyun restates. “I choose to die.” The last of the ward vanishes, and the noise of everyone present crashes back into him from its muted state.

“Baekhyun!” Hyeran screams. The knights around them swoop in, taking Baekhyun by the arms, gripping as hard as they can to cut off his circulation. Another night grabs his neck, making it hard but not impossible for Baekhyun to breathe.

If he wanted to fight his way out, he could, but he always meant it when he thought he’d lay his life down for the princess.

Such is love, he thinks.

“I won’t allow this!” Hyeran tries, pushing herself to her feet. She grabs her father’s arm, but he knocks her away. 

“Your daughter brought you the stone you wanted,” Baekhyun reminds the king. “She can choose her own husband.” He looks at Hyeran, hoping she can see on his face his sincerity, how much he means his words. “You can’t give up your freedom for me,” he tells her. “I didn’t do all of this, I didn’t come here, to watch you just give up for me.”

“It’s not giving up,” Hyeran counters. “It’s fighting for what I believe in.”

“Pathetic,” the king sneers. He turns to announce to everyone gathered, “The exile will be executed, and the princess will become queen.” Applause follows his words. He’s stone-faced when he turns back to Baekhyun.

“To the guillotine with it,” he orders.

“Your daughter,” Baekhyun spits, wheezing out the words, “will make a better queen than you were ever king.” He spats in the king’s face, and if the utter rage on the man’s face is the last effect on the kingdom he ever has, he thinks he’ll be okay with that.

The guards trip him onto his knees, dragging him across the carpeted floor. 

“Stop,” Hyeran orders. “Stop this!” She looks at the king. “Father, please!”

“Don’t marry,” Baekhyun calls back to the princess. “Not because that fucker asks you to. Not because anyone wants you to but yourself.”

“Baekhyun!” Hyeran cries after him. The last thing Baekhyun sees before the throne room doors slam shut and the hood of the sentenced is secured over his head is Hyeran on her knees in the middle of the kingdom’s most lavish room with her arm outstretched, reaching for him. Her sobs echo after him even after the doors close.

“I love you, girlie,” Baekhyun whispers, and he only regrets she never heard him say it.

*

Baekhyun can’t see anything but the faintest shimmer of light through the black fabric on his head, covering his face. The cold reaches him easily, snow seeping through the fabric of his pants and through the lacing on his boots. It chills his stomach, but he can’t move.

He’s chained again, shackles on his ankles and wrists. The metal is biting against his skin, and it’s hard to breathe with the cold against his chest. It’s humiliatingly vulnerable to be laid out across the guillotine’s bascule, the bench covered in snow and the blade hanging less than his own height away from his neck. 

His body is strapped to the bascule, and he can’t shift even an a hair’s breadth to relieve the awkward angle of his neck. The lunette traps his face separate from his body, his head and hands on one side of the looming blade and the rest of him on the other.

The cold is miserable and unbearable, but it won’t be long before he’s not suffering anything.

It won’t be long before he’s not even alive.

He counts his own breaths because that’s the only thing he can do. He can’t even reach for his magic as a form of comfort. Even if he wanted to betray Hyeran, the war magic users standing on either side of him, their hands digging into his shoulders, won’t let him. They send bolts of war magic into his body, the perverse magic corrupting the ebb and flow of his own. 

“Aren’t we lucky,” one of them says. Baekhyun thinks it’s the one standing at his right shoulder, but he’s not quite positive. The pain of their magic is disorienting. “Get to see the last original magic user die and the princess is on the market for marriage.”

“A great day to be alive,” the other agrees. They chuckle, and Baekhyun doesn’t even bother to roll his eyes. His father is still alive; Hyeran is still alive. Original magic has another few years before it’s well and truly gone. 

Each time the wind blows across Baekhyun’s back, he tries to remember the cold of the mountains and the cold of the cliffs. He tries to compare that frigidity to this chill to make himself think it’s not so bad. He tries to remember the warmth of Hyeran against him, both her body and her spirit. If he thinks hard enough, maybe the memory will banish most of the sensation of cold. The weather is one thing, but the chill of impending death is not so easily dismissed.

“The king is coming,” the first speaker announces. His words direct Baekhyun’s attention back towards the castle. He can’t quite tell exactly where it is, but he’s pretty sure he laid out facing the same door he was dragged out of. Sound echoes around him, bouncing off of stone and sky.

The courtyard of the palace in a kingdom where he was never welcome - this is where Baekhyun is going to die. 

Despite the lack of talking, the oncoming crowd from the throne room is loud, boots on the ground crunching over the snow. 

Baekhyun can’t see them, but he hopes Hyeran isn’t among them. He doesn’t want her to see this. Even if her last memory is of him being dragged away, it’s better than his head separated from his shoulders. 

Heavy footfalls sound on the stairs leading up to the platform where the guillotine is set. The same stairs had bruised Baekhyun’s knees as he’d been dragged up them. 

The steps of thick boots stop next to Baekhyun, and he hears a low thrum as the rope holding the blade high over his head is plucked. 

“Remove the hood,” the king’s voice orders, and the black fabric is ripped from over Baekhyun’s face. He winces at the sudden glare of afternoon sun on the dirty snow. The wind sounds even louder now, blowing back the long cloaks and shawls of those gathered to watch his execution.

The king wears a black shirt and a black tunic, but his heavy fur cloak is the same decorated one he had worn to announce the quest for the Word of Dragons. He stands with his arms crossed, a new sword hanging at his belt. 

Beside him, Hyeran stands dressed in all black. She still clings to her father’s cloak, her mouth forming the word ‘please’ over and over again. She’s staring at Baekhyun even if her words are meant for her father.

Baekhyun can’t look away from her. 

_I’m sorry,_ he thinks. _I’m so sorry._

“Please,” Hyeran continues to say, “don’t.” And the more Baekhyun watches the more he realizes that it might not even be her father she’s talking to. It might not even be _please_ that she’s saying. He blinks, trying to clear his vision.

Another man wearing high-heeled boots makes his way up to the platform, a scroll clutched tightly in red fingers. 

“Condemn him,” the king directs, and the harold opens his mouth and the scroll.

The harold’s voice is grating, and Baekhyun hopes it isn’t the last voice he ever hears. “On this day, the third of the first month and the third of the year, we gather to see punishment given in due course. This exile-” 

Baekhyun scoffs. They couldn’t even call him a man, could they?

“-has been charged with kidnapping the princess, a crime punishable by death.”

His announcement is followed by a loud cheer of agreement from the royals. Hyeran shakes her head, hands now curled into fists at her side.

“He didn’t,” her lips are saying. “Please, stop this.”

“He has been charged with practicing original magic within the kingdom gates, a crime punishable by exile. Therefore, the already-exiled is to be sentenced to death!”

More cheers follow this, and Baekhyun watches the tears falling down Hyeran’s face, dripping from her chin. She’s tugging at her black gloves, and she drops the lace in the gray slush at her feet. 

“For being an exile who entered the the palace gates, he is to be laid out on the guillotine, his head separated from his shoulders and his body flung over the kingdom walls.” The harold’s scroll snaps shut. “These are the sins of the condemned.” He stamps his heeled boot on the steps three times, the sound resonating around the courtyard.

“Does anyone object to the exile’s guilt?” the king asks.

“I plead for him,” Hyeran says immediately. Her father grabs her upper arm, squeezing tightly. Hyeran’s face twists into an expression of pain, struggling to get out of the king’s grip, but he only holds tighter.

“Anyone but the princess,” he clarifies. No objections extend from the crowd. Hyeran, still trying to free herself from her father’s hold, turns to stare at Baekhyun, shaking her head.

“Break free,” she mouths. “If you want to live, break free.”

Baekhyun shakes his head as much as he can within the confines of the lunette. “Remember the cliffs,” he whispers, straining to hold his head up so that Hyeran can see his words clearly even if she can’t hear them. “I will always be here.” 

“Hold him,” the king orders, and the two magic users restraining Baekhyun’s power back surge their own into his body again. Baekhyun sucks in a breath, feeling his magic trying to fight theirs off. If their hands left his back for even a second, it would be enough to keep the circle of energy going, but it’s too late to try anything now. Hyeran will still become queen, and Baekhyun will be nothing but a memory.

“Always,” Baekhyun repeats.

“Draw your blade!” The king’s order is followed by the shriek of sword against scabbard as the executioner draws his sword. He steps down on the rope, pulling it tighter, and the guitolline groans its thirst for blood.

Baekhyun drops his gaze, the back of his neck fully bared. 

Pale blue flashes, and the men holding onto Baekhyun are suddenly gone from touching him. Baekhyun jerks up, hearing them stumble back. The fitted blade jerks a little precariously over his head. Court ladies scream and guards draw their swords. They look at Baekhyun as if the blue is his fault, but the source of the magic comes from within their midst.

Hyeran steps out of the crowd, separating herself from the ranks of the rich and royal, jerking her arm free of her father’s grip. Around her, shifting her skirts around her ankles and tugging on the hem of her cloak, original magic sparks, highlighting her cheekbones and shining in her eyes. 

“I refuse to be a part of this,” she announces. She spins on her heel and thrusts a hand out. The wind blows hard, compressed air slamming past Baekhyun. He can’t see what happens, but the sound of two bodies thudding to the ground behind him is telling enough.

“Hyeran,” the king gasps out, his mouth open and gaping, eyes wide but still furious as he takes in his daughter spinning original magic on her own hands. “What is this?”

Hyeran ignores him, sending another attack towards the executioner. Baekhyun hears the executioner’s sword clatter across the ground, and the man is next to fall.

“What is this?” the king demands again.

Hyeran still offers no answer. She grabs the front of her dress, lifting the skirts to run up to Baekhyun. 

“Stop her!” the king orders, but no metal man could ever hope to stand up to a woman with a goal. Baekhyun’s seen it before with Sunyoung and with Hani. Hyeran’s magic flares every time a guard steps in close to grab her, turning to shove an energy-filled hand against his armor and blast him away. 

“She’s just a girl!” the king shouts. “Grab her!”

Hyeran clasps both hands in front of her chest, more guards coming to encircle her, and the blue dancing on her knuckles binds into webs over her hands. She throws her arms out, a ward extending from her body to throw anyone coming near her back. It’s an impressive ward, built to withstand heavy attacks and to silence the outside world.

It grows to cover Baekhyun too as Hyeran runs up the stairs towards him. 

“What are you doing?” Baekhyun demands. Hyeran slides to a halt in front of him on her knees. “You succeeded. You were free! You-” He bites his lip, thinking hard. “I’ll say it was my own trick,” he says. “I’ll tell them I-”

The ward falls. “I can’t let you die for me,” Hyeran says, her words loud, echoing off the sky. They soar over the racket of the crowd. 

“I told you I’d get you your freedom in this castle,” Baekhyun responds, much quieter. “I don’t have any regrets.” He only intends for Hyeran to hear, but even she’s not listening to him. He wishes he could grab her, could force her to listen, but Hyeran has never been one to simply follow a direction she doesn’t deem fit for her. 

“Freedom,” she echoes. “Freedom sounded so much better when it didn’t come at the cost of your life.” She lifts her hands to frame his face, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones.

“Freedom isn’t free, princess,” Baekhyun tells her. Hyeran wipes away a tear before it can fall down his cheek. 

“But the price doesn’t have to be this high,” she counters. 

“Get up!” the king is shouting, calling for the executioner to return to his place on the stage. The clamor of guards hurrying to help the fallen man is nothing but background noise when Hyeran is right here in front of him.

“In my dream,” Hyeran says, and Baekhyun remembers the journey from the cliffs back to the kingdom. He remembers curiosity eating him up inside with Hyeran’s refusal to tell him anything more than he would find out when he returned home. He remembers not telling her that he won’t see whatever she thought he would; he remembers wanting to know so desperately.

“In my dream,” Hyeran says again, “my name was written in that book on your father’s desk. In the space right next to yours.” One of her hands leaves his face to tangle her fingers with his instead. “I wrote it there. I couldn’t help myself.”

Baekhyun squeezes her hand tight. Behind him, the sound of the executioner making his way back onto the platform counts down his final moments, amplified by the roar of the crowd. 

“In my dream,” Hyeran continues, speaking a little faster now, “there were four branches extending from ours. Places for two little boys and two little girls.”

She’s crying openly now, tears streaked down her face, but her features are set and determined. Baekhyun is crying too, heart pained by her pain, unspoken apologies making him cold.

“That’s a wonderful dream,” he whispers. Hyeran nods, her fingers hooked under his chin so that he can’t look away from her.

“Do you love me?” she demands to know, and in that moment, in that breathless inquiry, only the two of them exist. Everything but the blue sparks passing between their hands joined hands seems to fade away.

“Hyeran,” Baekhyun breathes. His heart beats, pounding in his ears.

“Do you love me?” she asks again, a desperate question. The castle bells ring. The hour is here.

Hyeran’s magic zips through Baekhyun’s body, and he returns it with his own, trying to comfort her, trying to tell her for the last time without words exactly how much she means to him.

“Go now,” Baekhyun says, but he doesn’t loosen his hold on her hand. “Or you’ll be giving up too much for me.”

“You’re trying to give up your life for me,” Hyeran counters, the ring of cold steel reverberating in the air as the executioner picks up his weapon. “I’m only trying to selfishly have you a little longer.” She runs her fingers over his nose, his eyebrows and eyelids. She traces the shape of his lips, and Baekhyun lets her, wishes to return the gesture.

The nobles, the rich and the royal, all grumble, some calling for Baekhyun’s head, other’s voicing their disgust at the princess’ actions. The king stomps forward, jabbing an angry finger towards the guillotine blade. “Do it now!”

“Tell me you love me,” Hyeran pleads, “because I would rather be an exile with you than a queen without you.” Those words, spoken for all to hear, cannot be taken back.

The king seethes in outrage. “Drop the blade!” The guillotine creaks again, screeching its desire for Baekhyun’s blood with the executioner’s foot pressing down on the rope to hold it as taut as possible. 

“I know what I said, Baekhyun,” Hyeran continues, speaking faster. “Magic and freedom.” She speaks the words so easily in the dragon tongue, rolling over the syllables and clinging tighter to Baekhyun’s hand. “That’s what I want. Magic and freedom.”

“Hyeran, I-”

The king’s enraged scream cuts through Baekhyun’s words, and Hyeran’s grip on his hand is so tight it’s almost painful. “Stop her! Drop the blade!”

“Her hands, your majesty,” the executioner protests. “She’s too close to the steel, I-”

“A few fingers for an exile’s head,” the king bellows. “Execute him now!” The click of the executioner adjusting his grip on the sword follows the king’s words.

“I think you probably thought I didn’t know, but I do,” Hyeran speaks, tripping over her words as she fights against time to get her last words in. “That word, magic, in dragon speak, also means love. I know what I’m asking for, Baekhyun. Freedom and magic.”

_Freedom and love._

The executioner swings his sword up over his head. The sky rumbles, and Baekhyun’s magic wells up within him. Hyeran wants to love him, wants to be free with him.

She wants to be with him. 

“Do you love me?” Hyeran demands again.

“Loose the blade!” the king screams.

Hyeran’s cry covers his order. “Answer me, Baekhyun!”

The executioner shouts his intent, the sword whistling through the air. The king screams for murder, and the court cheers in disgust for Baekhyun’s life and praise for his death. The rope snaps, and the guillotine's blade falls. Baekhyun breathes. 

Lightning strikes.

The guillotine blade shatters, pieces scattering across the courtyard, storms reflected in their silver edges. Pale blue crawls up to the guillotine’s crossbar and explodes, dismantling the whole device. The straps holding Baekhyun still burn to ash, and his magic shrieks, careening around the courtyard, calling the storms.

Screams of terrified court members are drowned out by thunder and lighting and the howl of wind. Baekhyun smirks, forcing himself to stand. He feels shaky on his feet for only a mere moment before the raw energy of his own magic reacting off the storm he’d called consumes him. He slams his hands together, and thunder howls around them. The ground seems to shake, and the wind roars with the voice of dragons. This is original magic; this is the power that the king so fears brought into his castle. 

This is the magic inscribed in the Word of Dragons.

Baekhyun laughs, turning to face the court and their cowering expressions. Hyeran wants him; she wants to be with him. His death won’t serve any purpose for her if she doesn’t want to be queen, and he has no reason to hold back on his long withheld desire to kill the king.

He gathers malicious intent in his hand, stealing lightning from the sky and aiming at the king. The man struggles back to his feet with defiance in his eyes. He focuses, ready to take the king’s life with the magic he lived in fear of, but Hyeran is there to steal his attention, suddenly standing in front of Baekhyun, her hair whipping around her with blue sparks in her eyes. 

The attack vanishes from Baekhyun’s hands, his magic bursting out again to knock everyone away. Baekhyun doesn’t waste even a moment, walking up to the princess and circling his arms around her waist.

“I love you,” he declares softly in dragon speak for Hyeran to hear and remember. “I’ve loved you, I love you, and I will love you.”

Hyeran wraps her arms around his neck, and there, in front of the members of the court and the king himself, she kisses Baekhyun full on the mouth, licking past his lips and pressing herself against him. Lightning crashes, scorching the ground, and the wind lifts the snow into a frenzy. The two of them stand in the middle of it, their power combined, arms wound around each other.

“He’s not worth it,” Hyeran says, drawing back, keeping Baekhyun’s focus. “Let him run his kingdom into the seven. I don’t care just… take me home, Baekhyun.”

Home to the wind and the rain and sea, where magic runs as deep as the rivers and as high as the mountains. Hyeran’s magic winds with Baekhyun’s, and they turn to stand facing the king’s guards.

“I’m leaving, Father,” Hyeran states. “Tell my mother I love her.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” the king growls. “Not ever.”

Baekhyun takes a step forward, spreading his hands out in front of him. Hyeran’s hands slide along the backs of his, fitting into the spaces between his fingers, the magic he holds doubling.

“You and the metal men won't be much of a fight,” Baekhyun challenges.

“You think I will let you walk out of my kingdom with my princess?” The king guffaws, spittle flying from his mouth.

“Original magic users are to be exiled from the kingdom,” Hyeran speaks, cutting through her father’s laughter. She lifts her hands, drawing the magic away from Baekhyun’s. She reaches up into the sky, calling her own lightning, breathing more life into the storm in the courtyard.

The king turns an interesting shade of purple.

She smirks. “Exile me.”

The king scowls and grabs for the sword of the guard next to him. “Kill them both!” he bellows. “Obey my order!” 

The knights run forward, and Baekhyun reaches for Hyeran’s hand, lacing their fingers again. 

“Where is the stone?” he asks, focusing his energy forward, stitching a ward into existence in front of them. Hyeran extends a hand too, layering her magic with his.

“Siyeon has it,” she answers, voice a little breathless as the guards run to attack the ward. It cracks, and Baekhyun shifts his focus, repairing it. 

“Where is she?” he grunts, crossing his arms in front of him to block another attack on the ward.

“She should be at the grate still,” Hyeran tells him. “Where we snuck out of the castle.”

“You took her there?” He’s panting. Using magic to fight doesn’t require the intense concentration of maintaining a shielding ward, and Baekhyun can’t fight both of them out of there.

“Yes,” Hyeran confirms. “Just in case.”

“I’ll clear a path,” Baekhyun says, concentrating on exactly where he wants his magic to explode outward from. With Hyeran gone, he’ll be able to get out of the courtyard. “When I do, _run_.” Hyeran nods, squeezing his fingers. She lets go, but her magical presence still wraps around Baekhyun. He exhales, and together, they run forward.

The clash of orange and red against the pale blue of original magic is terrifyingly beautiful, the blue overwhelming the war magic only too easily. A guard swing his sword, and Baekhyun throws himself to his knees, sliding under the attack. He grabs the guard’s greeve-covered ankle as he passes, pulling him to his knees with charged energy that surges through the man’s body. 

He yells, and the storm crashes down to separate the line of guards into a clear path towards the gate. Baekhyun glances back at Hyeran.

“Go!”

Hyeran does, magic holding her skirts up from tripping her. She gathers magic in her own hands, calling lightning down to blast open the courtyard gates. Baekhyun somersaults and shoves himself to his feet, running after her.

Swords alight with war magic careen toward him, and he feels no shame in blasting magic through their armor, leaving bodies in his wake. 

He’s stopped, breathing hard, at the gate, the king standing before him with his stolen sword still in his grip.

“You should be dead,” his seethes.

“You deserve death too,” Baekhyun tells him. He can hear the crash of armor chasing after him, hear war magic singing through the air on the edges of a sword. “But you’re too lowly for me to kill you.”

A football and a scream of intent ring right behind Baekhyun, and he ducks, throwing a ward over his back to shield himself. It was unnecessary. When he looks up, the guard who had attempted to attack him has his sword embedded in the king’s shoulder.

The king’s sword clatters to the ground, and Baekhyun snatches it up, driving the weapon just underneath the guard’s helmet and through his throat. He draws back, watching the guard crumple to the ground, blood seeping through the slits in his helmet.

“Exile!” the king shouts, and Baekhyun whirls, holding the edge of the sword against the man’s neck. 

“I’m taking your daughter from you,” he says, “because I love her, and she loves me. Because she’s the most beautiful when she uses original magic and because she’s too good to stay under the rule of a man like you.” Lightning dances along the blade, and the king flinches, cowering away from it. 

Baekhyun laughs and drives the sword hard into the ground. The king sputters, shaking where he stands, and Baekhyun curls his hands into fists. 

“Fucking pathetic,” he says. He punches the king hard across the face, feels the satisfying crack of the man’s cheekbone under his fist and the smarting pain in his hand. The king falls, out cold. Baekhyun turns back to face the guards standing with their swords in a defensive position, shifting their feet uncertainly.

“Real fuckin’ pathetic,” he repeats, and then he runs from the palace, pulling the light around himself to hide his image. He races for the grate, dropping the spell the moment he sees Hyeran.

In her hands, the Word of Dragons is cradled, the faint green and blue glow reflected in her eyes. 

“Come on,” Baekhyun urges, taking the stone from her and holding it under one arm to take Hyeran’s hand. “Let’s go.” She smiles at him, a flush of excitement across her cheeks.

“Yes,” she agrees. “Let’s go home.”

They run, racing towards the slums, leaving behind a slew of dead metal men and a humiliated king. Truly, Baekhyun thinks, brushing his thumb over the back of Hyeran’s hand, this was the best revenge he could have exacted on the man who ruined his family.

Even if Baekhyun didn’t take part in the king’s quest, the greatest victory - the bright laugh of the woman running beside him out of the inner city - is his.

*

The slums welcome Baekhyun with the usual stench and ruckus, swearing in slurred accents and the faint whisper of a prostitute’s faked moans. They welcome him, but they don’t feel like home.

Home waits for him where the wind and the waves are never quiet, and magic never ceases to spin within the cycle of life and death.

“What are we doing back here?” Hyeran asks, clinging to Baekhyun’s arm. It’s nice being able to hold her close like this even if her grip is largely meant to cover Baekhyun’s bloody sleeve. 

“There’s someone I need to see,” he answers, tapping the earrings he wears now. The silver studs gleam but not with the brilliance of the rubies.

“What happened to your mother’s earrings?” Hyeran inquires. Baekhyun nudges her, turning to slip under a torn tapestry, the blood of dragons slain years ago appearing to drip from the loose threads. 

Baekhyun gives her a sheepish grin. “I broke them.”

Hyeran stops walking, pulling Baekhyun to a halt. “What?” she demands. “How did you-?”

“Hush,” Baekhyun murmurs. “Don’t draw attention here.” 

Hyeran wrinkles her nose, letting go of him. “How?” she asks again, softer this time but still insistent.

“The wards were meant to keep magic in,” Baekhyun explains. “But there’s only so much magic they can hold back.” He brushes a stray piece of hair back from her face. “Saving you was more important than some earrings.” Hyeran starts to protest, but Baekhyun leans in to kiss her words away.

“Mom would have agreed,” he promises.

Hyeran doesn’t look entirely convinced, but she takes his offered arm, letting him lead her deeper into the narrow alleys, the sunlight largely blocked by the tapestries strung overhead. 

“Where are we?” she whispers.

“Lord Chen’s streets,” Baekhyun replies. He sends out a pulse of magic, a pale flare of blue sliding along the cracks in the buildings. 

“I thought you said not to draw attention!” Hyeran hisses, grabbing Baekhyun’s hand and smothering his magic.

“ _You_ shouldn’t draw attention, princess,” Baekhyun explains, walking forward again. “But I’m known here.” He points to the scar of the diagram of original magic burned into one of the walls beside a dim torch. Hyeran grabs his shoulders and shoves him back. His back hits the stones, and Hyeran steps in against him, her hands fisted in the front of his shirt.

“Don’t call me that,” Hyeran murmurs. Baekhyun raises an eyebrow at her, and Hyeran copies his expression. “I’m an exile now too, you know?”

A pulse of affection warms his chest despite the chill in the air. “A bloodydamn exile…” he murmurs. Hyeran’s hands slide from from his chest to his neck and settle along his jaw. Baekhyun’s arms encircle her waist, tugging her in so that the warmth of affection can be confused with the warmth of her body.

“An exile,” she affirms. “A bloodydamn exile.” She leans in close, her words whispered so close to Baekhyun’s lips, and he waits. Her eyes are bright, and her magic seems to shimmer on her skin. 

“This is so fucking touching,” a woman’s voice reaches them from the shadows of the alley ways. Hyeran jerks back from Baekhyun, her cheeks flushed. Standing in front of them is one of the most infamous people in the slums: Lady Luna. Sunyoung holds a fire in her hand, the orange glow lighting her face and illuminating the area around her.

“I-” she starts, but Baekhyun cuts her off with a gentle squeeze at her hip.

“The beautiful Lady Luna,” Baekhyun greets dramatically. “How wonderful to see you.”

“I can’t say the same right now,” Sunyoung dismisses, waving away the flame she holds in her hand. “You’re here in Lord Chen’s home looking about ready to fuck the princess while Jongdae is in distress thinking his best friend is dead.”

Baekhyun sighs, pushing off the wall. “I fuckin’ came here to see him, Sunyoung,” he drawls. “Isn’t that obvious?”

Sunyoung lifts an eyebrow, looking skeptically between Baekhyun and Hyeran. “No,” she states. Baekhyun pouts at her, and Sunyoung rolls her eyes. “Come,” she orders, turning and stalking off deeper in the shadows. Baekhyun doesn’t let go of Hyeran, winding an arm around her waist to walk with her, following after Sunyoung.

Hyeran’s eyes go wide as she’s led past magic users practicing openly within the winding alleys and the stone walls. Baekhyun soothes his hand along her side, reminding her that even if the slums accept original magic, they still don’t like it. 

“We’re going to leave right after this,” Baekhyun whispers.

“I want to explore more,” Hyeran says. “Get in trouble with the law some.”

“Slum rat,” Baekhyun accuses, but he doesn’t mean it cruelly. Hyeran’s answering grin assures him that she understands.

Ahead of them, Sunyoung stops at a room Baekhyun knows well as Jongdae’s. She brushes back the curtain and pushes the door open too slightly for Baekhyun to peer inside.

“Lover,” Sunyoung calls. She disappears inside, the heavy curtain hung over the door falling down behind her. The door doesn’t click shut, and Baekhyun shifts uncomfortably. The soft murmur of voices inside reaches them, and magic sparks in the room with a sudden jolt.

Baekhyun releases Hyeran, stepping back from her just as the curtain is flung back. Jongdae stares at him with red-rimmed eyes, his magical presence simmering with something like shock and relief.

“Surprise?” Baekhyun says weakly, and he doesn’t get the chance to figure out what he really wants to say to Jongdae before his friend launches himself at him. They collapse to the ground, arms around each other, Jongdae’s laughter somewhere in between elation and tears. 

“You fuckin’ bloodydamn, ratshit moron,” Jongdae tells him. “Why the fuck are you still alive?”

“Would you rather I not be?” Baekhyun teases, coughing out of the words with Jongdae’s chokehold around his neck. 

“You fucking deserve it for making me think you were headed to the seven,” Jongdae practically growls, but there’s no real malice in his words. Baekhyun pats his friend’s back.

“Thank Hyeran for that,” he says. Jongdae lets go of Baekhyun and sits up suddenly. He climbs to his feet and in the first show of humility Baekhyun has ever seen from his friend, Jongdae dips his head to the former princess. 

“Thank you,” he tells her sincerely, “for keeping this idiot alive.”

Hyeran gives a slight giggle, smiling. “I had to,” she says.

“An explanation would be nice,” Sunyoung cuts in, coming forward to take Jongdae’s hand. Baekhyun grumbles, pushing himself to his feet. 

“Out here?” he mutters. 

Jongdae shrugs. “Come in, if you wish,” he offers, pushing back the curtain to his room. “But I’m really not giving you an option.”

Baekhyun can’t help himself, cracking a grin. That’s the Jongdae he knows, not the weepy mess his friend had been when Baekhyun had arrived. He takes Hyeran by her wrist, leading her into Jongdae’s room.

They sit, the four of them, in a circle, as Baekhyun explains from the first meeting to his near decapitation at the king’s guillotine what happened. He omits the details of the cave, of the cliffs, and of the storms. Those are moments to be remembered between Hyeran and himself only. The rest of it, learning magic and Hyeran is an exile now too; their story cannot bring her to any danger. Not anymore. 

“I still can’t fucking believe Minseok,” Jongdae spits. “I’ll kill him. I’ll fucking kill that piece of ratshit.”

“I don’t think you’ll need to,” Baekhyun says even if he’s the last person who would stop Jongdae from blasting Minseok’s chest wide open with the fury of war magic.

“You think he doesn’t fucking deserve it?” Jongdae nearly shouts. “You nearly get him killed on fucking accident so he does his best to actually get you killed? That’s fucked, Baekhyun.”

“He does fucking deserve it, and I’m not saying you shouldn’t,” Baekhyun corrects him. “I’m saying I’ve already got him fucked up.”

Jongdae’s eyebrows slant down, his expression skeptical. “How?”

“Heechul is dead,” Baekhyun states. “His neck snapped in the dungeon cell where they kept me. How do you think Hani is going to react to knowing her brother is dead by my hands?”

“You expect Hani to take revenge on him?” Jongdae snorts. “She’s in love with him.”

“My _love,_ ” Sunyoung stresses in response to Jongdae’s statement. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone and fuckin’ forgot the events that lead me to you.” Jongdae’s eyes go wide, and Sunyoung grins. “Exactly.”

“At the root of it,” Baekhyun argues, “Minseok is the reason he’s dead. If he hadn’t turned me in, the king’s assassin and I would have never met.”

“What happened?” Hyeran asks, leaning forward. Baekhyun looks at her.

“You want the details?” he questions.

“I’m not asking you,” Hyeran dismisses. Her attention is on Sunyoung, and the other woman’s attention moves to Hyeran, tilting her head in surprise. “I’m asking Luna.”

“I killed my former lover,” Sunyoung answers easily. “He killed my sister in a drunken rage, and I killed him in revenge.” Her voice is cold, but Hyeran doesn’t flinch from it. Sunyoung offers a hand to Hyeran. “Call me Sunyoung, darling. Please.”

“Hyeran,” Hyeran responds in turn. Jongdae shakes his head in impressed awe at Sunyoung’s short retelling of her past.

Baekhyun leans over towards Hyeran. “I just want to clarify that I didn’t kill the king.”

Hyeran blinks at him, and then she bursts out laughing. “Fine,” she says with a mock sigh. “You can live another day.”

“You women are the most terrifying,” Jongdae states with a solemn nod, and Baekhyun hums in agreement. 

Sunyoung clears her throat and tosses her hair back over her shoulder, obviously pleased. “So will you be returning to the cliffs?” she asks. “Or staying here longer?”

“We’re going home,” Baekhyun answers her. Hyeran squeezes his wrist. “Did you end up taking Minseok’s horses back to him or did you keep them by chance…?” 

Jongdae’s slow grin encourages one of Baekhyun’s own to quirk up the corners of his lips. “You’re bloodydamn right I did,” the street lord says.

“We have a long journey out to the cliffs,” Baekhyun sighs dramatically, wiggling his eyebrows at Jongdae, hoping he catches the hint. Hyeran elbows his side, and he tries not to wince too badly. Beside Jongdae, Sunyoung snorts. 

“Take them,” she offers. “We don’t need horses in the slums. Too much attention.” She gives Baekhyun a once-over and then Hyeran. “Come with me,” she says, climbing to her feet and holding out a hand to Hyeran. “You need new clothes. You can’t go around in those.” Hyeran looks down at her black mourning clothes, the design and detailing reeking of royal origins. “Jongdae, get the exile new clothes. It’s a miracle he hasn’t died from the cold already.”

Jongdae gets to his feet and tugs Sunyoung in close to him, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’ll meet you at the horses then.” Sunyoung nods and gestures again for Hyeran to follow her, leading her out of Jongdae’s room and towards her own. 

“I can’t believe you ended up with a princess,” Jongdae says the moment they’re gone. 

Baekhyun shrugs. “She’s not a princess anymore.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jongdae acquiesces, “but she was when you met her.” He moves over to a chest at the foot of his bed, sifting through it while he talks. “She left the lap of luxury for your dick, you know? That’s fucking… that’s something else, exile.”

Baekhyun frowns. “Sex has got fuck all to do with it,” he admits. Jongdae halts in pulling a heavy cloak out of the chest. 

“Are you…serious?” he asks. Baekhyun nods, taking the offered clothing from his friend. “Well, bloodydamn,” Jongdae breathes. “And she practically walked the seven for you.” He claps Baekhyun on the shoulder. “Happy you for, man.”

“I’m real fuckin’ happy for me too,” Baekhyun teases, and Jongdae just throws back his head and laughs. 

“Change,” he directs. “And then we’ll let you and your little princess run off into the sunset.”

“Not a princess,” Baekhyun corrects.

“The queen of your heart then,” Jongdae allows with a deep, mocking bow before he sweeps out of his own room, leaving Baekhyun to change. Just to annoy him, Baekhyun leaves his ruined clothes in the middle of Jongdae’s floor as he strips out of them. His borrowed clothes are a welcome relief on his chilled skin. He pulls the straps of the fur-lined cloak tight over his chest and works a little magic to secure his boots back on his feet.

It’s time to go home.

He steps out of Jongdae’s room and walks with his friend out of the deepest parts of the alleyways. Baekhyun hears the horses’ soft braying before he sees them, and when he does, he stops walking his breath stolen from his lungs.

Standing beside the stallion, Hyeran is dressed in commoner clothes, her skirts a patchwork of different fabrics and colors. The fur on her cloak tickles her chin, and her dark hair frames her face, the sparkle of magic on her skin standing out even more.

“Hurry up,” she calls to him, beckoning him with elegant fingers. 

Baekhyun walks a little faster, coming to a half in front of her.

“Ready to go?” Hyeran asks, and Baekhyun takes her hand and lifts it to his mouth, kissing her knuckles.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Hyeran snorts. “You’re the one taking your sweet time,” she reminds. “I’ve been ready.” She grabs the stallion’s reins in one hand and the saddle in her other, and Baekhyun cups his hands for her to step into to swing herself up and over the horse’s back. 

“When should I expect you next?” Jongdae asks. Baekhyun only offers him a shrug and swings himself up onto the mare’s back. 

“Maybe when the weather is nicer?” he offers.

“That’s too long!” Jongdae complains. “Who else is going to get into trouble with me?”

“Just think of all the uninterrupted fucking you two can get up to,” Baekhyun says. He winks at Sunyoung, and only just manages to block a blast of flame before it hits his face. “Alright, I’m gone.” He kicks his heels into his horse’s sides, and slaps a hand against the stallion’s haunches as he passes. Hyeran’s horse jerks forward, taking off a trot.

“See you later, exiles,” Jongdae calls after them. Hyeran waves behind her, and she and Baekhyun make their way out into the light of dusk, winding through the slums to the southern gates. 

“No guards,” Hyeran notes as they walk out into the wild plains. 

“Probably fucking drowning in their cups in the taverns,” Baekhyun surmises with a roll of his eyes. “But even if they were here, they wouldn’t stop two slum rats leaving the kingdom.”

“Exiles,” Hyeran corrects. Baekhyun shakes his head and gestures at the wide expanse of unclaimed land ahead of them.

“There are no exiles out here, girlie,” he says. “Only free people.”

“I like that,” Hyeran tells him, and Baekhyun hums his agreement. 

They travel forward until the gates are almost too small to see in the massive walls surrounding the kingdom. Hyeran guides her horse so closely alongside Baekhyun’s that their knees brush. Her eyes look from the open sky streaked with purple and orange to the grasses of the plains that the reflect its colors. 

Her magic reaches out towards the cliffs and the sea, singing with the memory of the waves. 

“I love you,” Baekhyun says just because he can. “Do you love me?” Hyeran breaks out into a grin.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she inquires. Baekhyun pouts, and Hyeran reaches across the slight gap between their horses to lay a palm along his jawline. “I love you,” she says softly like it’s her greatest secret. Baekhyun turns his head slightly to kiss her palm. It’s not a secret what they feel for each other, but these words are meant for his ears only. He treasures this moment, and when they gallop off into the plains this time, the sunset is spectacular around them.

It’s an ending, but it’s also the beautiful beginning of something new.

*

The roar of the waves crashing against the cliffs is a familiar song that summons Baekhyun back home with a desperate urgency that pushes him to ride harder, the mare’s hooves thudding across the ground.

In the near distance, but not quite near enough yet, the house Baekhyun grew up looms, the wards around it shimmering in the moonlight. It doesn’t look any different from his memories, but this time, he feels such a deep appreciation for the place he calls home. Even though he is once again returning with Hyeran beside him, the trepidation he’d carried with him upon his last arrival is gone, and in its place he feels a sort of relief at his homecoming. He wills the wind to blow behind him, to push his horse faster across the plains. 

“Papa!” Baekhyun yells, sending his magic out to draw his father’s attention. A replying surge of magic resonates from within the house, and the door flies open, slamming back against the walls inside. 

Baekhyun’s father runs out into the grass in his trousers and shirt, his feet bare and his cloak forgotten. He’s not even wearing a tunic; he must be freezing.

Baekhyun releases his mare’s reins and swings his leg over the horse’s side, jumping down. He hits the ground hard, stumbling as he runs the last few paces to barrel into his father’s arms.

“My son,” his father greets in disbelief, voice and fingers shaking. His grip on Baekhyun is tight, one hand buried in his hair and the other fisted in his fur cloak. “I thought it could have been a trick. My mind… you with your mother, but it’s you. You’re here.”

“I’m here,” Baekhyun confirms, and he hears his own voice break. He’s not sure when he started crying, but he buries his face in his father’s shoulder and allows himself. He almost died, for fuck’s sake. “I’m here. Are you?”

“I’m here,” his father says. “I can’t believe you’re here, but I saw it… the book.”

Baekhyun lifts his head, confusion swimming in his mind. “What are you talking about?” A hand settles on Baekhyun’s back, alerting him of Hyeran’s presence.

He doesn’t get a response to his question. His father lets go of him in favor of grabbing Hyeran into his arms instead. “You saved my son,” he breathes. “I can never repay you.”

“I don’t need repayment,” Hyeran says, trying to adjust so that the Word of Dragons in her arms isn’t squashed awkwardly between them, jabbing into their ribs. “I did what I had to do.”

“But not what just anyone would do,” Baekhyun’s father emphasizes, and Hyeran ducks her head a bit. A blush paints her cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and the cold air, and Baekhyun thinks she looks more beautiful every time he looks at her. 

“Let’s go inside,” Hyeran offers, changing the subject.

“Yes,” Baekhyun’s father agrees. He reaches over and takes Baekhyun’s wrist. “I must show you something.” He walks back towards the house, his grip on Baekhyun’s arm a little too tight to be comfortable with his bony fingers.

“Papa, the horses-” Baekhyun starts, glancing back at the two trotting around with their saddles and reins still on.

“Will be fine,” his father asserts. “They’ll come back when they’re hungry. They’ve been here before.” 

“I can take them to the trough,” Hyeran offers. Baekhyun’s father reaches back and takes her wrist too, the stone nearly tumbling from her grasp.

“No, you must see this also,” he says, and Hyeran glances at Baekhyun in hopeless confusion. He just shrugs; he hasn’t any clue either what his father so urgently need to show them. 

The house is the same house they left only a few days ago even if it feels like it was months or years ago. What’s not the same is the study doors are wide open, a trail of open books leading from the common room to the study. The first book is washed in an orange glow from the fire in the hearth, and the branches growing in ink along its pages mark it for what it is.

“Our history,” Baekhyun’s father breathes, letting go of both of their wrists to flick his fingers at the book. It lifts into the air, zooming into his hands. He turns to face Baekhyun and Hyeran, holding the book so that the words face upright for them. With a slight jerk of his head, the pages turn to the final quarter of the book. 

When Baekhyun had seen this book a few days ago, the final quarter was blank, the leaves and branches dead and the ink fading. Now, it’s vibrant and alive. The branches seem to extend beyond the contents of the book, and last name written in dragon script is Baekhyun’s own.

Next to it, the ink clearly not part of the spell and written in common lettering, is Hyeran’s name.

“I wrote this,” Hyeran says, touching her fingertips lightly to her own name. Sparks of magic pass from her hands to the pages, and Baekhyun watches the common lettering shift and move, the ink glowing pale blue. 

He takes Hyeran’s hand, and when the ink settles again, fading to black, the branch where Baekhyun’s name is written now holds two names tied together with the dragon script character for a joining. Hyeran’s name looks so elegant in dragon script.

“There is magic here,” Baekhyun’s father says in dragon speak, watching as four little branches extend from where Baekhyun and Hyeran’s names are linked. 

“Magic and freedom,” Hyeran responds in dragon speak. Baekhyun’s father snaps the book shut, sealing their names inside. 

“I believe you have a promise to fulfill,” Baekhyun’s father says, looking at Baekhyun. The Word of Dragons seems to glow a little brighter in Hyeran’s arms.

“I know,” Baekhyun says, “but fuck me if I’m about to head back up the mountains in the bloodydamn middle of winter.”

“We can go in spring,” Hyeran interjects. She glances up at Baekhyun. “RIght?”

“Right,” Baekhyun’s father answers instead. “Now set that stone down there in front of the fire.” Hyeran follows his direction, and immediately, the fire flares, yellow flames roaring into a bright blue that imitates the color of original magic. The shadows cast from its bright glow dance in hues of blue and green, warmth filling the house.

Baekhyun’s father grins, and Baekhyun’s own smile feels like it might split his face. He drapes an arm across Hyeran’s shoulders when she returns to his side, holding her close. There is indeed magic here.

“Shall we eat?” Baekhyun’s father suggests, and Hyeran nods enthusiastically.

“I’m famished,” she says. “I think I missed your stew?”

“Oh, that’s good,” Baekhyun’s father says. “Because I have a lot of it.” He leads the way to the kitchen, and behind them, the Word of Dragons continues to wash the house in blue and green, celebrating with them the continued existence of the purest form of magic.

*

Baekhyun stands at the edge of the mist and stone barrier surrounding the dragon graveyard with Hyeran beside him. Wrapped in a thin blanket, the Word of Dragons rests in her arms. The wind tosses their cloaks behind them, but it doesn’t carry with it the fury of winter. The ground is not covered in snow, and the scent of spring surrounds them, the ashen breath of the sun warming their faces.

“It looked different last time,” Hyeran whispers, her elbow brushing Baekhyun’s. “I’m just… not sure what about it was so different.”

Baekhyun peers into the mist, but it’s just as thick as it was three months ago when they first came here together. They had fought then, secrets and personal goals turning to insults and separation.

“Fear, maybe?” he offers. “Or just not knowing what you would find?” Hyeran hums but doesn’t give any indication of agreeing or not. She adjusts the stone in her arms and breathes evenly. With the Word of Dragons with them, neither of them had feared ascending the mountainside. It almost seemed as if the dragons were helping them bring their precious artifact back home, the terrain appearing to smooth and lift to carry them to the graveyard.

“I think I didn’t feel like I really belonged,” Hyeran says. “But then they called me your bride.” She looks at him with wide eyes, mock fear in her eyes, pink coloring her cheeks. “Do you think they’ll be terribly upset that I’m not pregnant?”

Baekhyun chokes. “What?”

Hyeran bursts out into laughter, the sound loud and unabashed. It’s this Hyeran who Baekhyun loves most - the one who lives without holding back because there is nothing to hold her back. She’s become well and truly free, and Baekhyun selfishly thinks of himself as her only tether just as she is his. 

“You told me last time they wanted to know if I was pregnant,” Hyeran reminds, and Baekhyun blinks in confusion before remembering that he had indeed told her that. A laugh bubbles out of his throat. 

“I forgot about that,” he tells her, words nearly unintelligible with his laughter. “Fuck, girlie. I can’t believe you remember that.”

“You made it up!” Hyeran accuses, shoving him with her shoulder. Baekhyun laughs harder, stumbling to the side. “You piece of rat shit.” She stomps forward, leaving him behind to laugh by himself, but then she stops turning back to face him. “You were thinking about this even back then?”

The question sobers Baekhyun, and he coughs again, straightening up. “I…” He clears his throat. “Um.” A wicked smile steals across Hyeran’s face, and Baekhyun stalks up to her snatching the Word of Dragons out of her hands.

“I’ll take this,” he intones. “I’m the one who promised to return it anyway.” He tries to walk away, and Hyeran grabs onto his cloak, dragging him back.

“We’re still talking about this,” she says cheerfully. “You need to suffer a little more.”

Baekhyun turns on her, leaning in close. “I suffer everyday because of you, sweetheart.” He says it to tease, even if in reality, he thinks he may die soon, suffering with how much he physically longs for her. He isn’t about to push her; his mother would be so disappointed and Hyeran… well. He doesn’t want to lose her over something that is entirely her choice.

Hyeran scowls, letting go of his cloak and shoving his chest. “You’re so bloodydamn annoying.”

“Love you,” Baekhyun says, sweeping away from her and into the mist. “Come on,” he calls back. “Let’s greet the dragons.” Hyeran mutters something in response that he doesn’t catch, but he figures she’s probably just cursing him out, something she’s learned to do oh-so-well over these past few months. 

The shadow of the mist fades as Baekhyun steps inside, the grass green under his feet and the sun shining brightly. Inside the stone circle, the weather feels almost hot, and Baekhyun is tempted to undo the straps of his cloak and leave it behind.

At the head of the graveyard, the pedestal from where Hyeran had originally taken the Word of Dragons stands proud and unmarred.

“It’s so beautiful,” Hyeran’s voice breathes just to Baekhyun’s right, and he jolts out of his mesmerized staring at the dragon graveyard. 

“It is,” he agrees. Slowly, he unwraps the fabric from around the stone, allowing the green and blue glow of translated magic to shine on his hands.

Above them, a delighted roar splits the sky.

“They’re here,” Hyeran says, looking up at the sky. The sunbeams shine through the incorporeal forms of the dragons, the veins in their wings appearing like gossamer threads. The vague shadows from their after images flit across the grass, circling the empty pedestal.

“ _Dragonborn son!_ ” echoes off the sky in the voices of dragons, their language both rough and soft in their throats. “ _Our son has come home!_ ”

Baekhyun bows to the dragons, holding the stone out in front of him. “Yes, I’m home,” he says in dragon speak.

_“Our daughter is with him!_ ” the dragons cheer, swooping down closer to the ground. The grass flattens under the wind of their passing. “ _A bride! A bride!”_

Baekhyun glanes at Hyeran with pride. She’s the finest bride he could have ever asked for, and the dragons approval of her makes everything they went through more than worth it. 

“Do you understand?” he asks Hyeran quietly. She nods, clearly pleased with herself.

“Just don’t discuss politics,” she warns. “I don’t think I’ll be able to keep up.” 

Baekhyun winks at her just to watch Hyeran roll her eyes in response. “No promises, girlie.” He moves towards the pedestal then, Hyeran walking with him. Baekhyun approaches with caution, their last encounter with the dragons still fresh in his mind. Hyeran’s hand rests on the small of his back, silent support. 

“I promised to return this,” Baekhyun announces in dragon speak, holding up the Word of Dragons.

“ _Fulfilled!_ ” the dragons chant. “ _The son of Chen keeps his promise!_ ” With those words ringing in his ears, Baekhyun deposits the stone gently on top of the pedestal. Magic rushes through the graveyard with the whisper of butterfly wings and dragon song, cool against his face. For a moment, everything seems to glow a pale blue, pulsing with green. 

Everything is right with the world. 

“We won’t… take this again,” Hyeran speaks, slurring through the words a little uncertainly. Her meaning is clear, and the dragons sing their approval. Three of the great beasts land in front of them, their glowing eyes the only part of them apart from their magic that seems to really exist.

“ _Our son,_ ” one of them, or maybe all three of them, begins, _”you make us proud._ ” 

Baekhyun bows again.

“ _Our daughter,_ ” another dragon, or maybe all of them, continues, _”you make us proud._ ” Hyeran glances at Baekhyun.

“Proud,” he translates into common tongue. A pleased blush colors Hyeran’s cheeks, and she too bows to the dragons.

“Thank you,” she murmurs in dragon speak.

“ _A perfect bride!_ ” the dragons cheer, and they beat their wings. The air stirs, whipping Baekhyun and Hyeran’s clothes and hair around them as the dragons ascend into the sky again. “ _More dragonborns to come!_ ” they sing as their forms flash in and out of sight. They say the words over and over again until they become a barely intelligible song. “ _More dragonborns sons and daughters to come!_ ” 

Baekhyun watches them go, their song echoing over and over again in the magic in the graveyard. Slowly, the summer air reverts to spring, and Baekhyun pulls his cloak tighter around his shoulders again. Only the stone remains magically bright in the graveyard.

“Shall we go?” he asks, reaching for Hyeran’s hand. She takes it, fingers tangling with his easily. They walk together out of the graveyard, the rush of the source of their magic passing between them.

“I want to stop somewhere,” Hyeran says as they begin their descent. She gives Baekhyun a very specific look that he can’t describe. “I think you know where.”

“I thought you were kind of sick of caves?” he teases.

“They’re kind of our thing,” Hyeran responds in the same tone. Baekhyun jostles her with his shoulder, but he doesn’t argue. Caves, in the most ironic way, kind of are their thing. It takes them a little while to find the same one they had taken shelter in, but with the weather becoming more mild, there’s no rush to get out of the cold.

When they find it, Hyeran is the first to walk inside, immediately setting a ward to keep the nighttime spring chill out and the warmth in. With the dragons aware of their presence, there’s no need to hide their respective magical presences. 

“Start a fire, would you?” Hyeran directs, untying her cloak. She flicks it, and any dirt from the days of travel to the mountains disappears to leave behind a perfectly clean garment. 

“You mean you didn’t bring me here to cuddle naked again?” he gasps, a hand pressed to his chest. “I’m hurt.” He’s joking… mostly. 

“Magic is just so much more convenient,” Hyeran states with a definitive nod. Baekhyun slides one hand along the other as if his hands were flint and stone, bringing a fire to life midair. Hyeran waves a hand in the fire’s direction, and three more fires are born from the flames of the first, her magic tangling with Baekhyun’s. The orange lights even the corners of cave, and the flames’ warmth spreads, the stone feeling almost cozy as Baekhyun settles down on the ground across from Hyeran. 

“Take off your cloak,” she offers, patting the space next to her. “Stay awhile.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes at her, but does as she asks, clearing the dirt from his cloak with the same method Hyeran has used. She takes it from him, spreading it out over her own in a makeshift pallet. She shifts back to lie down on it, beckoning Baekhyun to join her. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take off my shirt too?” he asks. “You can use it as a pillow.”

Hyeran just grabs his jaw and kisses him, effectively stealing whatever other reasons Baekhyun could have come up with for losing his clothes straight from his mouth.

Baekhyun is so weak when it comes to Hyeran, and he melts into her kiss, wrapping his arms around her and laying back to pull her over him. Her long patchwork skirt drapes across his legs, and her hair falls around them, blocking out the rest of the world. The warmth of the flames on their skin seeps from her to him and him to her. Hyeran’s hands soften on his face, fingertips trailing along his jaw and neck with her arms on his chest to support her weight.

“You’re so beautiful,” Baekhyun breathes. “Have I told you that yet today?”

“I don’t think you’ve told me in at least three days,” Hyeran muses, playful. “I’m feeling deprived of well-deserved praises.”

Baekhyun laughs, rolling them over to press Hyeran back. “Well,” he murmurs, ducking his head to kiss her neck, “you’re beautiful.” Hyeran preens, hands in his hair as he works his way up the column of her throat to her jaw and back to her lips. He kisses her once, and draws back before she can steal another. “So beautiful,” he says.

“Am I?” Hyeran questions, but she’s not really asking, her eyes focused on his. She traces out the features of his face. “The dragons called me your bride again.”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun whispers, grabbing her wrist when her fingers touch his lips, holding her still so he can kiss the pad of each fingers and each knuckle. He nips softly at her wrist. “I mean, we’re long past just bride and groom at this point.”

“Your wife,” Hyeran amends. “Am I really your wife?”

Baekhyun leans in and kisses her deeply, licking away any doubt she could suddenly come up with. “Fuck _yes_ you are, sweetheart,” he promises. “Since the moment I agreed to teach you magic, if I’m honest.”

Hyeran taps her fingers on his shoulders. “Your dragonborn customs are strange,” she says. “We’re married because you taught me magic.”

“Only family members are allowed to know original magic,” Baekhyun reminds her.

“I know,” Hyeran says. “I’m just trying to figure out why you call me your wife but haven’t consummated our marriage?”

Baekhyun pauses in running his fingers through her hair, mouth open and eyes searching her face. “Come again?”

Hyeran laughs, a tiny, breathless, nervous sound. “I said,” she repeats in words far less elegant than her former question, “why haven’t you fucked me yet?”

Baekhyun sits up, mind reeling, body reacting. “That is _not_ what you said,” he manages to get out.

“I figured slum terms would clue you in a little better,” Hyeran says flippantly, sitting up too. Her hands slide up his arms and across his shoulders, tugging at but not undoing the ties on his tunic. 

“Those aren’t slums terms, just crass terms,” Baekhyun argues.

“You’re stalling,” Hyeran states, and Baekhyun realizes that he, in fact, is stalling, and he can’t, figure out for the life of him, figure out _why._ It’s not because Baekhyun doesn’t want her. _Fuck_ , he wants her. But he also wants her to want him, and here she is, asking him very plainly why he hasn’t fucked her.

“I…” he stutters. “I’m really not sure why?”

Hyeran gets up on her knees, leaning over him, tilting his chin up as she crawls into his lap. Her fingers tremble against his jaw, and Baekhyun steadies her with his hands on her hips, grip loose enough that if she wants to escape she can.

“Baekhyun,” Hyeran murmurs, lips brushing his, “I haven’t done this before, so…”

“Is this because I offered to strip naked again?”

Hyeran laughs, still a little nervous, but her fingers are steadier against his jaw. “No,” she says. “It’s because _I_ want you to strip naked.” She kisses one cheek and then the other. “Because you’ve been so patient, and it’s starting to make me go crazy.” She settles down fully in his lap, one hand buried in his hair and the other holding the back of his shirt. “Because I’m in love with you, and I want to do this.” 

She tugs his hair, and Baekhyun tips his head back. Hyeran chases his lips, rocking her hips forward. She does it again, letting out the smallest gasp, and Baekhyun’s hands tighten on her hips, fisting the fabric of her skirts, energy surging through his body.

“Fuck,” he exhales. “Fuck, okay.”

“Be gentle with me,” Hyeran asks even with her fingers digging into his skin. She doesn’t wait for Baekhyun to respond, kissing him hard, and Baekhyun thinks, as his body thrums with want for her, that it’s _her_ who needs to be gentle with _him._

He lets her lead him, press him back, arches his back to keep pressed up against her. The warmth of the fires almost feels too hot with arousal setting Baekhyun’s heart racing. Hyeran’s fingers tangle in the ties at the top of his tunic, yanking the lacing free.

“Remember the storm?” Hyeran asks against Baekhyun’s neck, mouthing at his skin. Baekhyun tilts his head back, lets Hyeran pull his tunic open and tug his shirt aside. There have been more than a dozen storms this past winter, but Baekhyun knows exactly which storm Hyeran is talking about.

“Yes,” he breathes. Hyeran rocks her hips down again, and although the contact is slight, is still urges a gasp from Hyeran’s mouth.

“I wanted you then,” Hyeran admits. “But I was… afraid.” She draws back the slightest bit, and Baekhyun calms immediately, lifting up onto his elbows and looking at her. Hyeran’s hair is wild around her face, and Baekhyun loves it.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks.

Hyeran shakes her head and her wild hair. “Back then,” she explains, dragging a finger down the front of Baekhyun’s shirt, magic snapping the threads and tearing the garment open, “I thought I was still going to become queen. I thought if my last memory of you was giving myself to you, I wouldn’t…” She stops, hands settled on Baekhyun’s chest and head ducked. “I just wasn’t ready for that.”

Slowly, Baekhyun pushes himself up to sit, wrapping his arms around Hyeran to just hold her.

“I know,” he says. “I knew.” He takes one of her hands and kisses the back of it. “Fuck, girlie, I wanted you so much then. But I… I needed you to want me just as much.” He frowns. “I’ve always been selfish when it comes to you.”

“I like that,” Hyeran admits. “I like when you’re selfish for me.”

“Yeah?”

Hyeran kisses Baekhyun’s temple and his forehead. “Yeah,” she confirms. “You’re selfish for _me,_ jealous over _me._ It’s different from what I grew up expecting.”

“Which was?” Baekhyun inquires. Hyeran shifts on his lap, sitting back a little bit, putting just a little breathing room between them. Baekhyun tries not to focus on how much it feels like tonight is going to be another night where he doesn’t get to get under her skirts and between her legs.

“Are you sure you want to talk about this?” Hyeran tries to dismiss. “It’s not exactly… _arousing_.”

“I want to know how much better I need to be to you,” Baekhyun responds, sliding his hands up Hyeran’s thighs over the fabric of her dress. “How selfish I can be.”

Hyeran sighs, hands folded in front of her. Baekhyun wants her fingers back against his skin, but he’s been patient. He can be patient for longer. 

“My mother told me it would hurt,” Hyeran begins in a whisper. “She said when my father chose my prince consort, my ladies in waiting would watch to make sure the marriage was truly consummated. The morning after, the sheets would be carried to the king to show him the blood stains.” She takes a shuddering breath. “It would be about titles and royal ties.”

“What the fuck,” Baekhyun states.

Hyeran shrugs. “I was told to never expect to be pleasured by the man I married. Not in the palace anyway.” 

Baekhyun doesn’t say anything to that. He’s not sure there’s anything he can say.

“But then I met you,” Hyeran continues without urging, and she’s shifting closer to him again, fitting herself tightly against him. “And you married me without telling me that’s what you were doing.”

“It wasn’t my most intelligent decision,” Baekhyun allows.

“Definitely not,” Hyeran agrees. “But I prefer unknowingly asking you to marry me by teaching me your magic to being married to some man who would have spent his days fucking the maids.” Baekhyun can’t help but agree.

“You’re a strange woman, sweetheart,” Baekhyun tells her. Hyeran just smiles.

“And you agreed even though you only knew my name,” she counters. “You’re a strange man.” 

“Better than some metal man,” Baekhyun jokes, and Hyeran nods, dipping down to kiss him. 

“Let’s stop talking about this,” she says, kissing him again. “Kiss me.” Baekhyun can’t deny her anything, never has been able to, and so he does, kissing her and letting all thoughts of what her life could have been fade away.

None of that matters. None of that will ever matter again. She chose him, and he isn’t some prince or some knight lucky enough to be chosen by her father.

He’s a dragonborn lucky enough to be chosen by her.

Something about that snaps any hesitation within him, and he wraps his arms around her fully. He twists, lowering her to lay back on their cloaks spread on the ground. She grips his shoulders, keeping him down against her, and her long skirts trap her legs on the ground, not quite able to come up to bracket his hips.

Baekhyun runs his hands up her sides and under her back, reaching for the ties holding the top half of her dress on her body. He gives her one last questioning look, but unlike the time during that particular storm, she’s not tensed up and shaking. She’s relaxed and waiting with expectant eyes and wild hair. 

“Come on,” she encourages. “Don’t make me take care of myself.”

Baekhyun freezes in tugging the top layer of her dress off and away from her. “You… you’ve done that?”

Hyeran levels him with the most unimpressed stare, reaching down to her hip to loosen her skirts. “My mother said a man in the palace would never pleasure me. She never said anything about me pleasuring me.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Baekhyun backtracks, grabbing her hands and pinning them over her head. He ruts against her once, twice, letting her feel how affected he is. “I meant… hearing that makes me wild, princess.”

“Not a princess.”

“My love,” Baekhyun corrects himself. “You make me wild, my love.” He keeps holding her hands in one of his, lifting himself up onto his knees just enough to be able to pull Hyeran’s skirts completely free, the fabric collapsing uselessly around her.

In the firelight, her thin chemise doesn’t hide much but her skin, but her entire silhouette is outlined in the sheer fabric, her dark nipples visible. Baekhyun swallows, letting go of Hyeran’s hands to use both of his to tug her skirts out from underneath her, tossing them aside.

“I would think about you,” Hyeran admits, lifting a leg to assist Baekhyun in working to get her boots off. “With your magic still in my room almost like you were still there.”

“Fuck,” Baekhyun hisses, watching the thin fabric of her chemise slip down her thigh, revealing flashes of wet, pink skin in between her legs. His cock throbs in his trousers. He tosses that boot into some random corner of the cave, maybe out of it. Fuck if he knows, and fuck if he cares. 

Hyeran drops that leg to rest against his waist, lifting the other. Baekhyun can’t get the laces of her second boot undone fast enough, fingers desperate to touch her. Her chemise pools around her waist, the smooth lines of her hips bared.

Good things come to those who wait.

When the thump of Hyeran’s second boot disappearing somewhere outside of Baekhyun’s field of vision in the cave, he gets up on his knees to let his tunic and ripped shirt fall forgotten to the ground behind him.

He drapes himself over Hyeran, kissing her hard, breathing in the longing taint to their magic. 

“Remember, girlie,” he says, hands on Hyeran’s bare waist, “this isn’t the palace. Don’t be afraid to tell me what you like.” He hunkers down, kissing the inside of each knee and down the insides of each thigh.

“I’d like your mouth on me,” Hyeran states boldly, and Baekhyun obliges her, dragging the flat of his tongue over her folds before pointing it and doing it again. Hyeran’s hands find purchase in his hair, and Baekhyun works his tongue around her clit, sucking so lightly just above it.

“Oh,” Hyeran sighs, the sound drawn out and cutting out when Baekhyun drags his tongue over her again, repeating the action until Hyeran is tugging on his hair, mouth open and panting.

He shakes his head, finally allowing the tip of his tongue to rub over her clit, and Hyeran shouts, arching her back, trying to press up against his face. Baekhyun smirks against her, keeping up the pressure, tongue precise, repeating actions that make her moan, make her gasp out a broken versions of swears combined with his name. 

He ruts down against the ground to get a little relief on his cock.

“A little higher,” Hyeran directs, her voice breathless. “Please, please, please.” Baekhyun follows her direction, and she arches, letting out a shout, slamming a hand down on the ground before returning it to Baekhyun’s hair. Her pulling is almost a little painful, but it sends a thrill through Baekhyun, sparks against his skull that could be magic or arousal. He can’t tell the difference anymore.

He looks up to breathe for a quick second, and every inch of Hyeran’s skin seems to shimmer with magic, her eyes bright with it where they stare, unfocused, upward. 

“Keep going,” she encourages, eyes slipping shut. Baekhyun dips down, alternating between sucking on her clit and dipping his tongue down her folds. He slips a finger inside her, and Hyeran cries out, her walls tightening around his finger, and Baekhyun pushes her legs a little wider, sliding a second finger in next to the first.

Hyeran tosses her head side to side, panting. Her thighs tremble around Baekhyun’s head, and she’s close, tightening around his fingers. She’s so close. He just keeps right on what he’s doing, letting her work herself up on his tongue. 

Baekhyun draws back when she tenses, mouth open in a silent cry, leaving two fingers inside her for her to clench around and his thumb pressed to the skin over her clit, just enough to extend her orgasm without making her too sensitive to enjoy what’s next.

Baekhyun leans down as Hyeran’s hips continue to jerk, pressing kisses up her stomach to her ribs, shoving her chemise up as he goes until the fabric is just a white mass in his way. He grabs it with both hands and works it up and over Hyeran’s head, leaving her completely bare in front of him.

He’s breathless just watching her breathe, her chest flushed and nipples dark. Baekhyun bends to suck one into his mouth, pleased at the way Hyeran gasps and runs her fingers through his hair.

“Take off your pants,” Hyeran requests, but Baekhyun hears it like a demand. “I want you inside me.”

“Yeah, shit,” Baekhyun breathes, scrambling to do as she asks. It takes him longer than he wants it to, his boots too tightly laced to pull off easily, but when Baekhyun finally manages to free himself of his clothing, Hyeran is sitting up, pulling him in close to her and kissing him despite her slick on his face.

She encourages Baekhyun to lean over her, framing her head with his arms. She reaches down between them, and the bare touch of her pretty fingers against Baekhyun’s cock, guiding him into her, is nearly his undoing. Magic singes the air.

Baekhyun presses inside Hyeran, stars erupting behind his eyelids. His hips stutter at the sudden onslaught of feeling, and Hyeran holds his face, reminding him that she loves him. She’s so hot and wet, the very definition of perfection if he had to decide on one.

Baekhyun snaps his hips forward then, and Hyeran is shunted up their makeshift bedding a little bit, her shoulders knocking against the backs of Baekhyun’s upper arms. Her fingers scrabble at his back, and Baekhyun isn’t going to last if she keeps up whispering filthy encouragement in his ear. He’s not about to stop her; he’ll take anything she gives him. 

He slips a hand down between them, pressing against Hyeran’s lower stomach and fitting his thumb over her clit so that it just barely brushes against it. Hyeran cries out, nails digging into Baekhyun’s skin, lifting her hips to meet him, and Baekhyun’s orgasm hits him with all the force of the waves against the cliffs, crashing through him until he’s shaking. He buries his face in the crook of Hyeran’s neck, trying to gain control of his body again.

Hyeran’s gentle touches soothe him, bringing him down. He doesn’t remember her coming a second time, but she’s still glowing as if she had. 

“This might not be the best time,” Hyeran whispers when Baekhyun manages to lift his head from her neck, still breathing hard, “but do you think the dragons can just… hear and see everything we do?”

Baekhyun gapes at her for a moment before he just buries his face in her neck again and tries to pretend she didn’t just say that. He tries to groan miserably even though he’s far too happy to pretend to be anything else right now.

“I think I’ll never be able to look dead dragons in the eye again,” he laments, and Hyeran bursts into bubbly laughter.

“They’re the ones who said more dragonborns are coming,” she reminds him. “They obviously know what married couples get up to.”

“You’ve ruined dragons for me, darling,” Baekhyun tells her darkly. “I hope you’re happy.” Hyeran’s still grinning, still laughing, when she kisses him in apology and snuggles up against his side, gesturing for one of the fires to come a little closer and keep them warm. 

Baekhyun wraps his arms around her and passes out, happy and sleepy. He doesn’t dream, but there are no dreams that could be better than the reality he has right now. He wakes when Hyeran shifts against him, reaching out a second too late to try to pull her back into sleep with him.

“The sunrise,” she says instead of a morning greeting. Baekhyun works to clear his bleary vision in time to see Hyeran pull his shirt over her head and go to sit at the mouth of the cave just inside the ward she’d made last night. “It’s beautiful,” she calls back to him.

Baekhyun forces himself to get up, grabbing his pants and tripping his way into them, stumbling to the mouth of the cave to sit beside Hyeran. She’s right: the sunrise is beautiful, and it makes her look even moreso.

“I guess we’re really married now,” Hyeran says, eyes on the pink and gold sky, linking her pinky finger through Baekhyun’s. “Dragonborn customs or kingdom customs.”

“Do you want a wedding like that?” Baekhyun asks, and Hyeran shakes her head.

“I joined your family,” she says. “I don’t want anything to do with my old life.” Baekhyun leans over and kisses her hair, twisting the wild strands into a semblance of a bun at the nape of her neck. It falls back into a wild mess the moment he lets go.

“There’s nothing more intimate than my own magic that I can show you,” Baekhyun murmurs, watching the pink and gold sky become more pink, yellow, and blue. “The more traditional way to go about it is for a dragonborn to meet someone he or she wants to be with, fall in love, and then teach them magic in lieu of… the palace mouse marriage rat shit.”

“It’s so much more romantic than being watched on your wedding night,” Hyeran states, leaning against Baekhyun’s shoulder. “But I like this. I can watch the sun come up after dancing in the dark all night with you.” This time, she lifts Baekhyun’s hand to her mouth and kisses over his knuckles. It sends jolt of something through Baekhyun, but he can’t quite figure out if it’s fondness, love, or want. Maybe a mix.

“And you know,” Hyeran continues, “I did say two sons and two daughters. I wasn’t kidding, so maybe we should spend all day working on that.”

Baekhyun’s heart (and cock) swells, and he grabs Hyeran’s chin, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her deeply until he has the feeling of her mouth imprinted on his lips.

“I really fuckin’ love you, girlie,” Baekhyun says, voice trapped in the awe of how much truth is packed into those words. He kneels and scoops Hyeran up with one arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees. “Four kids, huh?”

“Four,” Hyeran confirms as Baekhyun sets her down on their cloaks again. He crawls back over her and begins to make his way back down her body because what Hyeran wants, Baekhyun will give to her. The stars, the moon, the sunrise - as long as he’s with her, his heart thrums with the steady beat of magic.

In dragon speak, magic means love.

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... yeah. That happened.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this! Find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/daestruct) to talk baekhera, EXO, and/or BTS. (I also go hard for RV and Mamamoo so you know... let's all be trash together.)
> 
> Until next fic!


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